TMJfi   UBKAK! 

DIVERSITY  OF  CAOFO*N1A 
LOS  ANGELJW 


B 


LACK   ROCK:      a   tale 

of   the  Selkirks     .     .     by 
Ralph  Connor 


With  an  Introduction 
by  Professor  George 
Adam  Smith,  LL.D. 


nt  |jj 

T  1> 


New  York  :  Chicago  :  Toronto 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 

1899 


INTRODUCTION 

I  THINK  I  have  met  "  Ralph  Connor.'*  In- 
deed, I  am  sure  I  have — once  in  a  canoe 
on  the  Red  River,  once  on  the  Assinaboine, 
and  twice  or  thrice  on  the  prairies  to  the 
West.  That  was  not  the  name  he  gave 
me,  but,  if  I  am  right,  it  covers  one  of 
the  most  honest  and  genial  of  the  strong 
characters  that  are  righting  the  devil  and 
doing  good  work  for  men  all  over  the 
world.  He  has  seen  with  his  own  eyes 
the  life  which  he  describes  in  this  book, 
and  has  himself,  for  some  years  of  hard 
and  lonely  toil,  assisted  in  the  good  in- 
fluences which  he  traces  among  its  wild 
and  often  hopeless  conditions.  He  writes 
with  the  freshness  and  accuracy  of  an 
eye-witness,  with  the  style  (as  I  think  his 
readers  will  allow)  of  a  real  artist,  and 
with  the  tenderness  and  hopefulness  of  a 
man  not  only  of  faith  but  of  experience, 


2046846 


BLACK  ROCK 

who  has  seen  in  fulfilment  the  ideals  for 
which  he  lives. 

The  life  to  which  he  takes  us,  though 
far  off  and  very  strange  to  our  tame  minds, 
is  the  life  of  our  brothers.  Into  the  North- 
West  of  Canada  the  young  men  of  Great 
Britain  and  Ireland  have  been  pouring  (I 
was  told),  sometimes  at  the  rate  of  48,000 
a  year.  Our  brothers  who  left  home 
yesterday — our  hearts  cannot  but  follow 
them.  With  these  pages  Ralph  Connor 
enables  our  eyes  and  our  minds  to  follow, 
too ;  nor  do  I  think  there  is  anyone  who 
shall  read  this  book  and  not  find  also  that 
his  conscience  is  quickened.  There  is  a 
warfare  appointed  unto  man  upon  earth, 
and  its  struggles  are  nowhere  more  in- 
tense, nor  the  victories  of  the  strong,  nor 
the  succors  brought  to  the  fallen,  more 
heroic,  than  on  the  fields  described  in 
this  volume. 

GEORGE  ADAM   SMITH. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   I 

PAQR 
CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  A  LUMBER  CAMP,       ....  X 

CHAPTER    II 
THE  BLACK  ROCK  CHRISTMAS,         ....  2g 

CHAPTER   III 

WATERLOO.      OUR  FIGHT — HIS  VICTORY,  .  53 

CHAPTER    IV 

MRS.  MAVOR'S  STORY,  .  .  .  ...  77 

CHAPTER   V 

THE  MAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE,         ...  .  .  .  97 

CHAPTER   VI 

BLACK  ROCK  RELIGION,          .  .  .  .  .  .  1 19 


BLACK  ROCK  v 

CHAPTER    VII 

PAGE 

THE  FIRST  BLACK  ROCK  COMMUNION,  .  .  .  139 

CHAPTER    VIII 

THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE,  ....  I$9 

CHAPTER   IX 
THE  LEAGUE'S  REVENGE,      ......         183 

CHAPTER   X 

WHAT  CAME  TO  SLAVIN, 2O5 

CHAPTER   XI 

THE  TWO  CALLS, 235 

CHAPTER   XII 

LOVE  IS  NOT  ALL 255 

CHAPTER    XIII 

HOW  NELSON  CAME  HOME,  .  .  .  .  <  271 

CHAPTER   XIV 
GRAEME'S  NEW  BIRTH,         ......        287 

CHAPTER   XV 

COMING  TO  THEIR  OWN 31! 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  A 
LUMBER  CAMP 


CHAPTER    I 

CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  A  LUMBER  CAMP 

IT  was  due  to  a  mysterious  dispensation  of 
Providence,  and  a  good  deal  to  Leslie  Graeme, 
that  I  found  myself  in  the  heart  of  the  Selkirks 
for  my  Christmas  Eve  as  the  year  1882  was 
dying.  It  had  been  my  plan  to  spend  my 
Christmas  far  away  in  Toronto,  with  such  Bohe- 
mian and  boon  companions  as  could  be  found 
in  that  cosmopolitan  and  kindly  city.  But  Leslie 
Graeme  changed  all  that,  for,  discovering  me  in 
the  village  of  Black  Rock,  with  my  traps  all 
packed,  waiting  for  the  stage  to  start  for  the 
Landing,  thirty  miles  away,  he  bore  down  upon 
me  with  resistless  force,  and  I  found  myself  re- 
covering from  my  surprise  only  after  we  had 
gone  in  his  lumber  sleigh  some  six  miles  on  our 
way  to  his  camp  up  in  the  mountains.  I  was 
surprised  and  much  delighted,  though  I  would 


*  BLACK  ROCK 

not  allow  him  to  think  so,  to  find  that  his  old- 
time  power  over  me  was  still  there.  He  could 
always  in  the  old  'Varsity  days — dear,  wild  days 
— make  me  do  what  he  liked.  He  was  so  hand- 
some and  so  reckless,  brilliant  in  his  class-work, 
and  the  prince  of  half-backs  on  the  Rugby  field, 
and  with  such  power  of  fascination  as  would 
'  extract  the  heart  out  of  a  wheelbarrow/  as  Barney 
Lundy  used  to  say.  And  thus  it  was  that  I 
found  myself  just  three  weeks  later — I  was  to 
have  spent  two  or  three  days, — on  the  afternoon 
of  the  24th  of  December,  standing  in  Graeme's 
Lumber  Camp  No.  2,  wondering  at  myself.  But 
I  did  not  regret  my  changed  plans,  for  in  those 
three  weeks  I  had  raided  a  cinnamon  bear's  den 

and  had  wakened  up  a  grizzly But  I  shall 

let  the  grizzly  finish  the  tale ;  he  probably  sees 
more  humour  in  it  than  I. 

The  camp  stood  in  a  little  clearing,  and  con- 
sisted of  a  group  of  three  long,  low  shanties  with 
smaller  shacks  near  them,  all  built  of  heavy,  un- 
hewn logs,  with  door  and  window  in  each.  The 
grub  camp,  with  cook-shed  attached,  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  clearing;  at  a  little  distance  was  the 
sleeping-camp  with  the  office  built  against  it,  and 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  A  LUMBER  CAMP     3 

about  a  hundred  yards  away  on  the  other  side  of 
the  clearing  stood  the  stables,  and  near  them  the 
smiddy.  The  mountains  rose  grandly  on  every 
side,  throwing  up  their  great  peaks  into  the  sky. 
The  clearing  in  which  the  camp  stood  was  hewn 
out  of  a  dense  pine  forest  that  filled  the  valley 
and  climbed  half  way  up  the  mountain -sides, 
and  then  frayed  out  in  scattered  and  stunted 
trees. 

It  was  one  of  those  wonderful  Canadian  winter 
days,  bright,  and  with  a  touch  of  sharpness  in  the 
air  that  did  not  chill,  but  warmed  the  blood  like 
draughts  of  wine.  The  men  were  up  in  the 
woods,  and  the  shrill  scream  of  the  blue  jay  flash- 
ing across  the  open,  the  impudent  chatter  of  the 
red  squirrel  from  the  top  of  the  grub  camp,  and 
the  pert  chirp  of  the  whisky-jack,  hopping  about 
on  the  rubbish-heap,  with  the  long,  lone  cry  of  the 
wolf  far  down  the  valley,  only  made  the  silence 
felt  the  more. 

As  I  stood  drinking  in  with  all  my  soul  the 
glorious  beauty  and  the  silence  of  mountain  and 
forest,  with  the  Christmas  feeling  stealing  into  me, 
Graeme  came  out  from  his  office,  and,  catching 
sight  of  me,  called  out,  'Glorious  Christmas 


4  BLACK  ROCK 

weather,  old  chap!'  And  then,  coming  nearer, 
'  Must  you  go  to-morrow  ? ' 

'  I  fear  so/  I  replied,  knowjng  well  that  the 
Christmas  feeling  was  on  him  too. 

'  I  wish  I  were  going  with  you,'  he  said  quietly. 

I  turned  eagerly  to  persuade  him,  but  at  the 
look  of  suffering  in  his  face  the  words  died  at  my 
lips,  for  we  both  were  thinking  of  the  awful 
night  of  horror  when  all  his  bright,  brilliant  life 
crashed  down  about  him  in  black  ruin  and  shame. 
I  could  only  throw  my  arm  over  his  shoulder 
and  stand  silent  beside  him.  A  sudden  jingle 
of  bells  roused  him,  and,  giving  himself  a  little 
shake,  he  exclaimed,  '  There  are  the  boys 
coming  home.' 

Soon  the  camp  was  filled  with  men  talking, 
laughing,  charring,  like  light-hearted  boys. 

'  They  are  a  little  wild  to-night,'  said  Graeme ; 
1  and  to  -  morrow  they  '11  paint  Black  Rock 
red.' 

Before  many  minutes  had  gone,  the  last  teamster 
was  'washed  up,'  and  all  were  standing  about 
waiting  impatiently  for  the  cook's  signal — the 
supper  to-night  was  to  be  '  something  of  a  feed ' 
— when  the  sound  of  bells  drew  their  attention 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  A  LUMBER  CAMP    5 

to  a  light  sleigh  drawn  by  a  buckskin  broncho 
coming  down  the  hillside  at  a  great  pace. 

*  The  preacher,  I  '11  bet,  by  his  driving/  said  one 
of  the  men. 

'Bedad,  and  it's  him  has  the  foine  nose  for 
turkey  1 '  said  Blaney,  a  good-natured,  jovial  Irish- 
man. 

'Yes,  or  for  pay-day,  more  like,'  said  Keefe, 
a  black-browed,  villainous  fellow-countryman  of 
Blaney's,  and,  strange  to  say,  his  great  friend. 

Big  Sandy  M'Naughton,  a  Canadian  High- 
lander from  Glengarry,  rose  up  in  wrath.  'Bill 
Keefe,'  said  he,  with  deliberate  emphasis, '  you  '11 
just  keep  your  dirty  tongue  off  the  minister ;  and 
as  for  your  pay,  it's  little  he  sees  of  it,  or  any 
one  else,  except  Mike  Slavin,  when  you're  too 
dry  to  wait  for  some  one  to  treat  you,  or  perhaps 
Father  Ryan,  when  the  fear  of  hell-fire  is  on 
to  you.' 

The  men  stood  amazed  at  Sandy's  sudden 
anger  and  length  of  speech. 

'  Bon  ;  dat  's  good  for  you,  my  bully  boy/  said 
Baptiste,  a  wiry  little  French-Canadian,  Sandy's 
sworn  ally  and  devoted  admirer  ever  since 
the  day  when  the  big  Scotsman,  under  great 


6  BLACK  ROCK 

provocation,  had  knocked  him  clean  off  the  dump 
into  the  river  and  then  jumped  in  for  him. 

It  was  not  till  afterwards  I  learned  the  cause 
of  Sandy's  sudden  wrath  which  urged  him  to 
such  unwonted  length  of  speech.  It  was  not 
simply  that  the  Presbyterian  blood  carried  with 
it  reverence  for  the  minister  and  contempt  for 
Papists  and  Fenians,  but  that  he  had  a  vivid 
remembrance  of  how,  only  a  month  ago,  the 
minister  had  got  him  out  of  Mike  Slavin's  saloon 
and  out  of  the  clutches  of  Keefe  and  Slavin  and 
their  gang  of  bloodsuckers. 

Keefe  started  up  with  a  curse.  Baptiste  sprang 
to  Sandy's  side,  slapped  him  on  the  back,  and 
called  out,  'You  keel  him,  I'll  hit  (eat)  him 
up,  me.' 

It  looked  as  if  there  might  be  a  fight,  when  a 
harsh  voice  said  in  a  low,  savage  tone, '  Stop  your 
row,  you  blank  fools ;  settle  it,  if  you  want  to, 
somewhere  else.'  I  turned,  and  was  amazed  to 
see  old  man  Nelson,  who  was  very  seldom  moved 
to  speech. 

There  was  a  look  of  scorn  on  his  hard,  iron- 
grey  face,  and  of  such  settled  fierceness  as  made 
me  quite  believe  the  tales  I  had  heard  of  his 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  A  LUMBER  CAMP     7 

deadly  fights  in  the  mines  at  the  coast.  Before 
any  reply  could  be  made,  the  minister  drove  up 
and  called  out  in  a  cheery  voice, '  Merry  Christ- 
mas, boys!  Hello,  Sandy!  Comment  c,a  va, 
Baptiste  ?  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Graeme  ? ' 

'  First  rate.  Let  me  introduce  my  friend,  Mr. 
Connor,  sometime  medical  student,  now  artist, 
hunter,  and  tramp  at  large,  but  not  a  bad  sort* 

'  A  man  to  be  envied,'  said  the  minister,  smiling. 
1 1  am  glad  to  know  any  friend  of  Mr.  Graeme's.' 

I  liked  Mr.  Craig  from  the  first  He  had  good 
eyes  that  looked  straight  out  at  you,  a  clean- 
cut,  strong  face  well  set  on  his  shoulders,  and 
altogether  an  upstanding,  manly  bearing.  He 
insiste  "  on  going  with  Sandy  to  the  stables  to 
see  Dandy,  his  broncho,  put  up. 

'Decent  feMow/ said  Graeme;  'but  though  he 
Is  good  enough  to  his  broncho,  it  is  Sandy  that 's 
in  his  mind  now.' 

'Does  he  come  out  often?  mean,  are  you 
part  of  his  parish,  so  to  speak  ? ' 

'  I  have  no  doubt  he  thinks  so ;  and  I  'm  blowed 
if  he  doesn't  make  the  Presbyterians  of  us  think 
so  too.'  And  he  added  after  a  pause, '  A  dandy 
lot  of  parishioners  we  are  for  any  man.  There's 


8  BLACK  ROCK 

Sandy,  now,  he  would  knock  Keefe's  head  off 
as  a  kind  of  religious  exercise ;  but  to-morrow 
Keefe  will  be  sober,  and  Sandy  will  be  drunk  as 
a  lord,  and  the  drunker  he  is  the  better  Presby- 
terian he  '11  be,  to  the  preacher's  disgust.'  Then 
after  another  pause  he  added  bitterly,  '  But  it  is 
not  for  me  to  throw  rocks  at  Sandy ;  I  am  not 
the  same  kind  of  fool,  but  I  am  a  fool  of  several 
other  sorts.' 

Then  the  cook  came  out  and  beat  a  tattoo 
on  the  bottom  of  a  dish-pan.  Baptiste  answered 
with  a  yell :  but  though  keenly  hungry,  no  man 
would  demean  himself  to  do  other  than  walk  with 
apparent  reluctance  to  his  place  at  the  table. 
At  the  further  end  of  the  camp  was  a  big 
fireplace,  and  from  the  door  to  the  fireplace 
extended  the  long  board  tables,  covered  with 
platters  of  turkey  not  too  scientifically  carved, 
dishes  of  potatoes,  bowls  of  apple  sauce,  plates  of 
butter,  pies,  and  smaller  dishes  distributed  at 
regular  intervals.  Two  lanterns  hanging  from 
the  roof,  and  a  row  of  candles  stuck  into  the  wall 
on  either  side  by  means  of  slit  sticks,  cast  a  dim, 
weird  light  over  the  scene. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  at  a  nod 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  A  LUMBER  CAMP      9 

from  Graeme  Mr.  Craig  rose  and  said,  '  I  don't 
know  how  you  feel  about  it,  men,  but  to  me  this 
looks  good  enough  to  be  thankful  for.' 

1  Fire  ahead,  sir,'  called  out  a  voice  quite  respect- 
fully, and  the  minister  bent  his  head  and  said — 

'  For  Christ  the  Lord  who  came  to  save  us,  for 
all  the  love  and  goodness  we  have  known,  and  for 
these  Thy  gifts  to  us  this  Christmas  night,  our 
Father,  make  us  thankful.  Amen.' 

'Bon,  dat's  fuss  rate,'  said  Baptiste.  'Seems 
lak  dat  's  make  me  hit  (eat)  more  better  for  sure,' 
and  then  no  word  was  spoken  for  quarter  of  an 
hour.  The  occasion  was  far  too  solemn  and 
moments  too  precious  for  anything  so  empty  as 
words.  But  when  the  white  piles  of  bread  and 
the  brown  piles  of  turkey  had  for  a  second  time 
vanished,  and  after  the  last  pie  had  disappeared, 
there  came  a  pause  and  hush  of  expectancy, 
whereupon  the  cook  and  cookee,  each  bearing 
aloft  a  huge,  blazing  pudding,  came  forth. 

'  Hooray  ! '  yelled  Blaney,  '  up  wid  yez ! '  and 
grabbing  the  cook  by  the  shoulders  from  behind, 
he  faced  him  about. 

Mr.  Craig  was  the  first  to  respond,  and  seizing 
the  cookee  in  the  same  way,  called  out, '  Squad, 


io  BLACK  ROCK 

fall  in  !  quick  march ! '     In  a  moment  every  man 
was  in  the  procession. 

'  Strike  up,  Batchees,  ye  little  angel ! '  shouted 
Blaney,  the  appellation  a  concession  to  the 
minister's  presence ;  and  away  went  Baptiste  in  a 
rollicking  French  song  with  the  English  chorus — 

*  Then  blow,  ye  winds,  in  the  morning, 

Blow,  ye  winds,  ay  oh  1 
Blow,  ye  winds,  in  the  morning, 
Blow,  blow,  blow.' 

And  at  each  'blow'  every  boot  came  down 
with  a  thump  on  the  plank  floor  that  shook  the 
solid  roof.  After  the  second  round,  Mr.  Craig 
jumped  upon  the  bench,  and  called  out— 

'  Three  cheers  for  Billy  the  cook  ! ' 

In  the  silence  following  the  cheers  Baptiste 
was  heard  to  say, '  Bon !  dat  's  mak  me  feel  lak 
hit  dat  puddin'  all  hup  mesef,  me.' 

1  Hear  till  the  little  baste ! '  said  Blaney  in 
disgust. 

1  Batchees,'  remonstrated  Sandy  gravely, '  ye  Ve 
more  stomach  than  manners.' 

'  Fu  sure !  but  de  more  Stomach  dat 's  more 
better  for  dis  puddin','  replied  the  little  French- 
man cheerfully. 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  A  LUMBER  CAMP    n 

After  a  time  the  tables  were  cleared  and  pushed 
back  to  the  wall,  and  pipes  were  produced.  In 
all  attitudes  suggestive  of  comfort  the  men  dis- 
posed themselves  in  a  wide  circle  about  the  fire, 
which  now  roared  and  crackled  up  the  great 
wooden  chimney  hanging  from  the  roof.  The 
lumberman's  hour  of  bliss  had  arrived.  Even  old 
man  Nelson  looked  a  shade  less  melancholy  than 
usual  as  he  sat  alone,  well  away  from  the  fire, 
smoking  steadily  and  silently.  When  the  second 
pipes  were  well  a-going,  one  of  the  men  took 
down  a  violin  from  the  wall  and  handed  it  to 
Lachlan  Campbell.  There  were  two  brothers 
Campbell  just  out  from  Argyll,  typical  High- 
landers: Lachlan,  dark,  silent,  melancholy,  with 
the  face  of  a  mystic,  and  Angus,  red-haired,  quick, 
impulsive,  and  devoted  to  his  brother,  a  devotion 
he  thought  proper  to  cover  under  biting,  sarcastic 
speech. 

Lachlan,  after  much  protestation,  interspersed 
with  gibes  from  his  brother,  took  the  violin,  and, 
in  response  to  the  call  from  all  sides,  struck  up 
'  Lord  Macdonald's  Reel.'  In  a  moment  the 
floor  was  filled  with  dancers,  whooping  and  crack- 
ing their  fingers  in  th*»  wildest  manner.  Then 


i  a  BLACK  ROCK 

Baptiste  did  the  '  Red  River  Jig,'  a  most  intricate 
and  difficult  series  of  steps,  the  men  keeping  time 
to  the  music  with  hands  and  feet. 

When  the  jig  was  finished,  Sandy  called  for 
1  Lochaber  No  More ' ;  but  Campbell  said,  '  No, 
no !  I  cannot  play  that  to-night.  Mr.  Craig  will 
play.' 

Craig  took  the  violin,  and  at  the  first  note  I 
knew  he  was  no  ordinary  player.  I  did  not 
recognise  the  music,  but  it  was  soft  and  thrill- 
ing, and  got  in  by  the  heart,  till  every  one  was 
thinking  his  tenderest  and  saddest  thoughts. 

After  he  had  played  two  or  three  exquisite 
bits,  he  gave  Campbell  his  violin,  saying,  '  Now, 
"  Lochaber,"  Lachlan.' 

Without  a  word  Lachlan  began,  not  'Lochaber' 
— he  was  not  ready  for  that  yet — but  '  The 
Flowers  o'  the  Forest,'  and  from  that  wandered 
through  'Auld  Robin  Gray'  and  'The  Land  o' 
the  Leal,'  and  so  got  at  last  to  that  most  soul- 
subduing  of  Scottish  laments, '  Lochaber  No  More.' 
At  the  first  strain,  his  brother,  who  had  thrown 
himself  on  some  blankets  behind  the  fire,  turned 
over  on  his  face,  feigning  sleep.  Sandy  M'Naugh- 
tOD  took  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  and  sat 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  A  LUMBER  CAMP    13 

up  straight  and  stiff,  staring  into  vacancy,  and 
Graeme,  beyond  the  fire,  drew  a  short,  sharp 
breath.  We  had  often  sat,  Graeme  and  I,  in 
our  student-days,  in  the  drawing-room  at  home, 
listening  to  his  father  wailing  out  'Lochaber' 
upon  the  pipes,  and  I  well  knew  that  the  awful 
minor  strains  were  now  eating  their  way  into 
his  soul. 

Over  and  over  again  the  Highlander  played 
his  lament.  He  had  long  since  forgotten  us,  and 
was  seeing  visions  of  the  hills  and  lochs  and  glens 
of  his  far-away  native  land,  and  making  us,  too, 
see  strange  things  out  of  the  dim  past  I  glanced 
at  old  man  Nelson,  and  was  startled  at  the  eager, 
almost  piteous,  look  in  his  eyes,  and  I  wished 
Campbell  would  stop.  Mr.  Craig  caught  my 
eye,  and,  stepping  over  to  Campbell,  held 
out  his  hand  for  the  violin.  Lingeringly 
and  lovingly  the  Highlander  drew  out  the 
last  strain,  and  silently  gave  the  minister  his 
instrument. 

Without  a  moment's  pause,  and  while  the  spell 
of  'Lochaber'  was  still  upon  us,  the  minister, 
with  exquisite  skill,  fell  into  the  refrain  of  that 
simple  and  beautiful  camp-meeting  hymn,  '  The 


i4  BLACK  ROCIL 

Sweet  By  and  By.'  After  playing  the  verse 
through  once,  he  sang  softly  the  refrain.  After 
the  first  verse,  the  men  joined  in  the  chorus ;  at 
first  timidly,  but  by  the  time  the  third  verse  was 
reached  they  were  shouting  with  throats  full  open, 
'  We  shall  meet  on  that  beautiful  shore.'  When  I 
looked  at  Nelson  the  eager  light  had  gone  out  of 
his  eyes,  and  in  its  place  was  a  kind  of  determined 
hopelessness,  as  if  in  this  new  music  he  had  no 
part 

After  the  voices  had  ceased,  Mr.  Craig  played 
again  the  refrain,  more  and  more  softly  and 
slowly ;  then  laying  the  violin  on  Campbell's 
knees,  he  drew  from  his  pocket  his  little  Bible, 
and  said — 

'  Men,  with  Mr.  Graeme's  permission,  I  want 
to  read  you  something  this  Christmas  Eve.  You 
will  all  have  heard  it  before,  but  you  will  like  it 
none  the  less  for  that* 

His  voice  was  soft,  but  clear  and  penetrating, 
as  he  read  the  eternal  story  of  the  angels  and  the 
shepherds  and  the  Babe.  And  as  he  read,  a 
slight  motion  of  the  hand  or  a  glance  of  an 
eye  made  us  see,  as  he  was  seeing,  that  whole 
radiant  drama.  The  wonder,  the  timid  joy,  the 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  A  LUMBER  CAMP    15 

tenderness,  the  mystery  of  it  all,  were  borne  in 
upon  us  with  overpowering  effect.  He  closed  the 
book,  and  in  the  same  low,  clear  voice  went  on 
to  tell  us  how,  in  his  home  years  ago,  he  used 
to  stand  on  Christmas  Eve  listening  in  thrilling 
delight  to  his  mother  telling  him  the  story,  and 
how  she  used  to  make  him  see  the  shepherds 
and  hear  the  sheep  bleating  near  by,  and 
how  the  sudden  burst  of  glory  used  to  make  his 
heart  jump. 

'  I  used  to  be  a  little  afraid  of  the  angels, 
because  a  boy  told  me  they  were  ghosts ;  but  my 
mother  told  me  better,  and  I  didn't  fear  them 
any  more.  And  the  Baby,  the  dear  little  Baby 
— we  all  love  a  baby.'  There  was  a  quick,  dry 
sob ;  it  was  from  Nelson.  '  I  used  to  peek 
through  under  to  see  the  little  one  in  the 
straw,  and  wonder  what  things  swaddling  clothes 
were.  Oh,  it  was  all  so  real  and  so  beauti- 
ful ! '  He  paused,  and  I  could  hear  the  men 
breathing. 

'But  one  Christmas  Eve/  he  went  on,  in  a 
lower,  sweeter  tone, '  there  was  no  one  to  tell  me 
the  story,  and  I  grew  to  forget  it,  and  went  away 
to  college,  and  learned  to  think  that  it  was  only 


16  BLACK  ROCK 

a  child's  tale  and  was  not  for  men.  Then  bad 
days  came  to  me  and  worse,  and  I  began  to  lose 
my  grip  of  myself,  of  life,  of  hope,  of  goodness, 
till  one  black  Christmas,  in  the  slums  of  a  far- 
away city,  when  I  had  given  up  all,  and  the 
devil's  arms  were  about  me,  I  heard  the  story 
again.  And  as  I  listened,  with  a  bitter  ache  in 
my  heart,  for  I  had  put  it  all  behind  me,  I 
suddenly  found  myself  peeking  under  the  shep- 
herds' arms  with  a  child's  wonder  at  the  Baby 
in  the  straw.  Then  it  came  over  me  like  great 
waves,  that  His  name  was  Jesus,  because  it  was 
He  that  should  save  men  from  their  sins.  Save ! 
Save!  The  waves  kept  beating  upon  my  ears, 
and  before  I  knew,  I  had  called  out,  "  Oh !  can 
He  save  me  ?"  It  was  in  a  little  mission  meeting 
on  one  of  the  side  streets,  and  they  seemed  to  be 
used  to  that  sort  of  thing  there,  for  no  one  was 
surprised ;  and  a  young  fellow  leaned  across  the 
aisle  to  me  and  said,  "Why!  you  just  bet  He 
can!"  His  surprise  that  I  should  doubt,  his 
bright  face  and  confident  tone,  gave  me  hope 
that  perhaps  it  might  be  so.  I  held  to  that 
hope  with  all  my  soul,  and' — stretching  up  his 
arms,  and  with  a  quick  glow  in  his  face  and  a 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  A  LUMBER  CAMP    17 

little  break  in  his  voice,  '  He  hasn't  failed  me 
yet ;  not  once,  not  once ! ' 

He  stopped  quite  short,  and  I  felt  a  good  deal 
like  making  a  fool  of  myself,  for  in  those  days  1 
had  not  made  up  my  mind  about  these  things. 
Graeme,  poor  old  chap,  was  gazing  at  him  with 
a  sad  yearning  in  his  dark  eyes ;  big  Sandy  was 
sitting  very  stiff,  and  staring  harder  than  ever 
into  the  fire ;  Baptiste  was  trembling  with  ex- 
citement ;  Blaney  was  openly  wiping  the  tears 
away.  But  the  face  that  held  my  eyes  was  that 
of  old  man  Nelson.  It  was  white,  fierce,  hungry- 
looking,  his  sunken  eyes  burning,  his  lips  parted 
as  if  to  cry. 

The  minister  went  on.  '  I  didn't  mean  to  tell 
you  this,  men,  it  all  came  over  me  with  a  rush  • 
but  it  is  true,  every  word,  and  not  a  word  will  I 
take  back.  And,  what's  more,  I  can  tell  you 
this,  what  He  did  for  me  He  can  do  for  any 
man,  and  it  doesn't  make  any  difference  what 's 
behind  him,  and ' — leaning  slightly  forward,  and 
with  a  little  thrill  of  pathos  vibrating  in  his  voice 
— 'O  boys,  why  don't  you  give  Him  a  chance 
at  you  ?  Without  Him  you  '11  never  be  the  men 
you  want  to  be,  and  you  '11  never  get  the  better 


18  BLACK  ROCK 

of  that  that's  keeping  some  of  you  now  from 
going  back  home.  You  know  you  '11  never  go  back 
till  you  're  the  men  you  want  to  be.'  Then,  lifting 
up  his  face  and  throwing  back  his  head,  he  said, 
as  if  to  himself,  '  Jesus !  He  shall  save  His 
people  from  their  sins,'  and  then, '  Let  us  pray.' 

Graeme  leaned  forward  with  his  face  in  his 
hands;  Baptiste  and  Blaney  dropped  on  their 
knees;  Sandy,  the  Campbells,  and  some  others, 
stood  up.  Old  man  Nelson  held  his  eyes  steadily 
on  the  minister. 

Only  once  before  had  I  seen  that  look  on  a 
human  face.  A  young  fellow  had  broken  through 
the  ice  on  the  river  at  home,  and  as  the  black 
water  was  dragging  his  fingers  one  by  one  from 
the  slippery  edges,  there  came  over  his  face  that 
same  look.  I  used  to  wake  up  for  many  a  night 
after  in  a  sweat  of  horror,  seeing  the  white  face 
with  its  parting  lips,  and  its  piteous,  dumb  appeal, 
and  the  black  water  slowly  sucking  it  down. 

Nelson's  face  brought  it  all  back ;  but  during 
the  prayer  the  face  changed,  and  seemed  to  settle 
into  resolve  of  some  sort,  stern,  almost  gloomy, 
as  of  a  man  with  his  last  chance  before  him. 

After  the  prayer  Mr.  Craig  invited  the  men  to 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  A  LUMBER  CAMP    19 

a  Christmas  dinner  next  day  in  Black  Rock. 
1  And  because  you  are  an  independent  lot,  we  '11 
charge  you  half  a  dollar  for  dinner  and  the  eve- 
ning show.'  Then  leaving  a  bundle  of  magazines 
and  illustrated  papers  on  the  table — a  godsend 
to  the  men — he  said  good-bye  and  went  out 

I  was  to  go  with  the  minister,  so  I  jumped  into 
the  sleigh  first,  and  waited  while  he  said  good-bye 
to  Graeme,  who  had  been  hard  hit  by  the  whole 
service,  and  seemed  to  want  to  say  something. 
I  heard  Mr.  Craig  say  cheerfully  and  confidently, 
'It's  a  true  bill:  try  Him.' 

Sandy,  who  had  been  steadying  Dandy  while 
that  interesting  broncho  was  attempting  with 
great  success  to  balance  himself  on  his  hind  legs, 
came  to  say  good-bye.  '  Come  and  see  me  first 
thing,  Sandy.' 

'Ay!  I  know;  I'll  see  ye,  Mr.  Craig/  said 
Sandy  earnestly,  as  Dandy  dashed  off  at  a  full 
gallop  across  the  clearing  and  over  the  bridge, 
steadying  down  when  he  reached  the  hill 

'  Steady,  you  idiot  1 ' 

This  was  to  Dandy,  who  had  taken  a  sudden 
side  spring  into  the  deep  snow,  almost  upsetting 
us.  A  man  stepped  out  from  the  shadow.  It 


ao  BLACK  ROCK 

was  old  man  Nelson.  He  came  straight  to  the 
sleigh,  and,  ignoring  my  presence  completely, 
said — 

'Mr.  Craig,  are  you  dead  sure  of  this?  Will 
it  work  ? ' 

'Do  you  mean,'  said  Craig,  taking  him  up 
promptly,  'can  Jesus  Christ  save  you  from  your 
sins  and  make  a  man  of  you  ? ' 

The  old  man  nodded,  keeping  his  hungry  eyes 
on  the  other's  face. 

*  Well,  here 's  His  message  to  you :  "  The  Son 
of  Man  is  come  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which 
was  lost." ' 

'  To  me  ?     To  me  ? '  said  the  old  man  eagerly. 

1  Listen ;  this,  too,  is  His  Word :  "  Him  that 
cometh  unto  Me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out." 
That 's  for  you,  for  here  you  are,  coming.' 

'You  don't  know  me,  Mr.  Craig.  I  left  my 
baby  fifteen  years  ago  because ' 

'Stop!'  said  the  minister.  'Don't  tell  me,  at 
least  not  to-night ;  perhaps  never.  Tell  Him  who 
knows  it  all  now,  and  who  never  betrays  a  secret. 
Have  it  out  with  Him.  Don't  be  afraid  to  trust 
Him.' 

Nelson  looked  at  him,  with  his  face  quivering, 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  A  LUMBER  CAMP    21 

and  said  in  a  husky  voice,  'If  this  is  no  good, 
It 'shell  for  me/ 

'  If  it  is  no  good/  replied  Craig,  almost  sternly, 
'it 'shell  for  all  of  us.' 

The  old  man  straightened  himself  up,  looked 
up  at  the  stars,  then  back  at  Mr.  Craig,  then  at 
me,  and,  drawing  a  deep  breath,  said,  '  I  '11  try 
Him.'  As  he  was  turning  away  the  minister 
touched  him  on  the  arm,  and  said  quietly, '  Keep 
an  eye  on  Sandy  to-morrow.' 

Nelson  nodded,  and  we  went  on ;  but  before 
we  took  the  next  turn  I  looked  back  and  saw 
what  brought  a  lump  into  my  throat.  It  was  old 
man  Nelson  on  his  knees  in  the  snow,  with  his 
hands  spread  upward  to  the  stars,  and  I  won- 
dered if  there  was  any  One  above  the  stars,  and 
nearer  than  the  stars,  who  could  see.  And  then 
the  trees  hid  him  from  my  sight 


THE   BLACK  ROCK  CHRISTMAS 


CHAPTER    II 

THE  BLACK  ROCK  CHRISTMAS 

MANY  strange  Christmas  Days  have  I  seen,  but 
that  wild  Black  Rock  Christmas  stands  out 
strangest  of  all.  While  I  was  revelling  in 
my  delicious  second  morning  sleep,  just  awake 
enough  to  enjoy  it,  Mr.  Craig  came  abruptly, 
announcing  breakfast  and  adding,  'Hope  you 
are  in  good  shape,  for  we  have  our  work  before 
us  this  day.' 

'  Hello ! '  I  replied,  still  half  asleep,  and  anxious 
to  hide  from  the  minister  that  I  was  trying  to 
gain  a  few  more  moments  of  snoozing  delight, 
1  what 's  abroad  ? ' 

'  The  devil,'  he  answered  shortly,  and  with 
such  emphasis  that  I  sat  bolt  upright,  looking 
anxiously  about. 

'  Oh  !  no  need  for  alarm.  He 's  not  after  you 
particularly — at  least  not  to-day,'  said  Craig,  with 


*6  BLACK  ROCK 

a  shadow  of  a  smile.  '  But  he  is  going  about  in 
good  style,  I  can  tell  you.1 

By  this  time  I  was  quite  awake.  '  Well,  what 
particular  style  does  His  Majesty  affect  this 
morning?' 

He  pulled  out  a  showbill.  'Peculiarly  gaudy 
and  effective,  is  it  not?' 

The  items  announced  were  sufficiently  attrac- 
tive. The  'Frisco  Opera  Company  were  to  pro- 
duce the  '  screaming  farce,' '  The  Gay  and  Giddy 
Dude';  after  which  there  was  to  be  a  'Grand  Ball,' 
during  which  the  '  Kalifornia  Female  Kickers ' 
were  to  do  some  fancy  figures;  the  whole  to 
be  followed  by  a  'big  supper'  with  'two  free 
drinks  to  every  man  and  one  to  the  lady,'  and 
all  for  the  insignificant  sum  of  two  dollars. 

'  Can't  you  go  one  better  ? '  I  said. 

He  looked  inquiringly  and  a  little  disgustedly 
at  me. 

'What  can  you  do  against  free  drinks  and  a 
dance,  not  to  speak  of  the  "  High  Kickers  "  ? '  he 
groaned. 

1  No ! '  he  continued  ; '  it's  a  clean  beat  for  us  to- 
day. The  miners  and  lumbermen  will  have  in  their 
pockets  ten  thousand  dollars,  and  every  dollar 


THE  BLACK  ROCK  CHRISTMAS         «7 

burning  a  hole;  and  Slavin  and  his  gang  will 
get  most  of  it.  But/  he  added, '  you  must  have 
breakfast.  You'll  find  a  tub  in  the  kitchen  ;  don't  be 
afraid  to  splash.  It  is  the  best  I  have  to  offer  you.' 

The  tub  sounded  inviting,  and  before  many 
minutes  had  passed  I  was  in  a  delightful  glow,  the 
effect  of  cold  water  and  a  rough  towel,  and  that 
consciousness  of  virtue  that  comes  to  a  man  who 
has  had  courage  to  face  his  cold  bath  on  a  winter 
morning. 

The  breakfast  was  laid  with  fine  taste.  A 
diminutive  pine-tree,  in  a  pot  hung  round  with 
wintergreen,  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  table. 

1  Well,  now,  this  looks  good  ;  porridge,  beef- 
steak, potatoes,  toast,  and  marmalade.' 

'  I  hope  you  will  enjoy  it  all.' 

There  was  not  much  talk  over  our  meal.  Mr. 
Craig  was  evidently  preoccupied,  and  as  blue  as 
his  politeness  would  allow  him.  Slavin's  victory 
weighed  upon  his  spirits.  Finally  he  burst  out, 
1  Look  here !  I  can't,  I  won't  stand  it ;  something 
must  be  done.  Last  Christmas  this  town  was  for 
two  weeks,  as  one  of  the  miners  said,  "a  little 
suburb  of  hell."  It  was  something  too  awful. 
And  at  the  end  of  it  all  one  young  fellow  was 


28  BLACK  ROCK 

found  dead  in  his  shack,  and  twenty  or  more 
crawled  back  to  the  camps,  leaving  their  three 
months'  pay  with  Slavin  and  his  suckers. 

'  I  won't  stand  it,  I  say.'  He  turned  fiercely  on 
me.  '  What 's  to  be  done  ? ' 

This  rather  took  me  aback,  for  I  had  troubled 
myself  with  nothing  of  this  sort  in  my  life  before, 
being  fully  occupied  in  keeping  myself  out  of  diffi- 
culty, and  allowing  others  the  same  privilege. 
So  I  ventured  the  consolation  that  he  had  done 
his  part,  and  that  a  spree  more  or  less  would  not 
make  much  difference  to  these  men.  But  the 
next  moment  I  wished  I  had  been  slower  in 
speech,  for  he  swiftly  faced  me,  and  his  words 
came  like  a  torrent. 

'  God  forgive  you  that  heartless  word !     Do  you 

know ?     But  no ;  you  don't  know  what  you 

are  saying.  You  don't  know  that  these  men  have 
been  clambering  for  dear  life  out  of  a  fearful  pit 
for  three  months  past,  and  doing  good  climbing 
too,  poor  chaps.  You  don't  think  that  some  o 
them  have  wives,  most  of  them  mothers  arxl 
sisters,  in  the  east  or  across  the  sea,  for  whose  sake 
they  are  slaving  here  ;  the  miners  hoping  tr  save 
enough  to  bring  their  families  to  this  hoaieless 


THE  BLACK  ROCK  CHRISTMAS         29 

place,  the  rest  to  make  enough  to  go  back  with 
credit.  Why,  there's  Nixon,  miner,  splendid 
chap ;  has  been  here  for  two  years,  and  drawing 
the  highest  pay.  Twice  he  has  been  in  sight  of 
his  heaven,  for  he  can't  speak  of  his  wife  and 
babies  without  breaking  up,  and  twice  that  slick 
son  of  the  devil — that's  Scripture,  mind  you — 
Slavin,  got  him,  and  "rolled"  him,  as  the  boys 
say.  He  went  back  to  the  mines  broken  in  body 
and  in  heart.  He  says  this  is  his  third  and  last 
chance.  If  Slavin  gets  him,  his  wife  and  babies 
will  never  see  him  on  earth  or  in  heaven.  There 
is  Sandy,  too,  and  the  rest.  And/  he  added,  in  a 
lower  tone,  and  with  the  curious  little  thrill  of 
pathos  in  his  voice, '  this  is  the  day  the  Saviour 
came  to  the  world.'  He  paused,  and  then  with 
a  little  sad  smile,  'But  I  don't  want  to  abuse 
you.' 

'  Do,  I  enjoy  it,  I  'm  a  beast,  a  selfish  beast ' ; 
for  somehow  his  intense,  blazing  earnestness  made 
me  feel  uncomfortably  small. 

1  What  have  we  to  offer  ? '  I  demanded. 

'  Wait  till  I  have  got  these  things  cleared  away, 
and  my  housekeeping  done.' 

I  pressed   my  services  upon  him,  somewhat 


3©  BLACK  ROCK 

feebly,  I  own,  for  I  can't  bear  dishwater  ;  but  he 
rejected  my  offer. 

'  I  don't  like  trusting  my  china  to  the  hands  of 
a  tender-foot' 

'Quite  right,  though  your  china  would  prove 
an  excellent  means  of  defence  at  long  range.'  It 
was  delf,  a  quarter  of  an  inch  thick.  So  I  smoked 
while  he  washed  up,  swept,  dusted,  and  arranged 
the  room. 

After  the  room  was  ordered  to  his  taste,  we 
proceeded  to  hold  council.  He  could  offer  dinner, 
magic  lantern,  music.  '  We  can  fill  in  time  for 
two  hours,  but,'  he  added  gloomily, '  we  can't  beat 
the  dance  and  the  "  High  Kickers." ' 

'  Have  you  nothing  new  or  startling  ? ' 

He  shook  his  head. 

'No  kind  of  show?  Dog  show?  Snake 
charmer  ? ' 

'  Slavin  has  a  monopoly  of  the  snakes/ 

Then  he  added  hesitatingly,  '  There  was  an  old 
Punch-and-Judy  chap  here  last  year,  but  he  died. 
Whisky  again.' 

'  What  happened  to  his  show  ? ' 

'  The  Black  Rock  Hotel  man  took  it  for  board 
and  whisky  bill.  He  has  it  still,  I  suppose.' 


THE  BLACK  ROCK  CHRISTMAS         31 

I  did  not  much  relish  the  business ;  but  I  hated 
to  see  him  beaten,  so  I  ventured,  '  I  have  run 
a  Punch  and  Judy  in  an  amateur  way  at  the 
'Varsity.' 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  yell. 

1  You  have !  you  mean  to  say  it  ?  We  Ve  got 
them  !  We  Ve  beaten  them  ! '  He  had  an  ex- 
traordinary way  of  taking  your  help  for  granted. 
'  The  miner  chaps,  mostly  English  and  Welsh, 
went  mad  over  the  poor  old  showman,  and  made 
him  so  wealthy  that  in  sheer  gratitude  he  drank 
himself  to  death.' 

He  walked  up  and  down  in  high  excitement 
and  in  such  evident  delight  that  I  felt  pledged  to 
my  best  effort 

1  Well,'  I  said, '  first  the  poster.  We  must  beat 
them  in  that' 

He  brought  me  large  sheets  of  brown  paper, 
and  after  two  hours'  hard  work  I  had  half  a  dozen 
pictorial  showbills  done  in  gorgeous  colours  and 
striking  designs.  They  were  good,  if  I  do  say  it 
myself. 

The  turkey,  the  magic  lantern,  the  Punch  and 
Judy  show  were  all  there,  the  last  with  a  crowd 
before  it  in  gaping  delight  A  few  explanatory 


3»  BLACK  ROCK 

words  were  thrown  in,  emphasising  the  highly 
artistic  nature  of  the  Punch  and  Judy  entertain- 
ment. 

Craig  was  delighted,  and  proceeded  to  perfect 
his  plans.  He  had  some  half  a  dozen  young  men, 
four  young  ladies,  and  eight  or  ten  matrons,  upon 
whom  he  could  depend  for  help.  These  he 
organised  into  a  vigilance  committee  charged 
with  the  duty  of  preventing  miners  and  lumber- 
men from  getting  away  to  Slavin's.  '  The  critical 
moments  will  be  immediately  before  and  after 
dinner,  and  then  again  after  the  show  is  over,'  he 
explained.  '  The  first  two  crises  must  be  left  to 
the  care  of  Punch  and  Judy,  and  as  for  the  last, 
I  am  not  yet  sure  what  shall  be  done ' ;  but  I  saw 
he  had  something  in  his  head,  for  he  added,  '  I 
shall  see  Mrs.  Mavor.' 

'  Who  is  Mrs.  Mavor  ? '  I  asked.  But  he  made 
no  reply.  He  was  a  born  fighter,  and  he  put  the 
fighting  spirit  into  us  all.  We  were  bound  to  win. 

The  sports  were  to  begin  at  two  o'clock.  By 
lunch-time  everything  was  in  readiness.  After 
lunch  I  was  having  a  quiet  smoke  in  Craig's  shack 
when  in  he  rushed,  saying — 

'The  battle  will  be  lost  before  it  is  fought    If 


THE  BLACK  ROCK  CHRISTMAS         33 

we  lose  Quatre  Bras,  we  shall  never  get  to 
Waterloo.' 

'What 'sup?' 

'  Slavin,  just  now.  The  miners  are  coming  in, 
and  he  will  have  them  in  tow  in  half  an  hour.' 

He  looked  at  me  appealingly.  I  knew  what  he 
wanted. 

'  All  right ;  I  suppose  I  must,  but  it  is  an  awful 
bore  that  a  man  can't  have  a  quiet  smoke.' 

'You're  not  half  a  bad  fellow,'  he  replied, 
smiling.  '  I  shall  get  the  ladies  to  furnish  coffee 
inside  the  booth.  You  furnish  them  intellectual 
nourishment  in  front  with  dear  old  Punch  and 
Judy.' 

He  sent  a  boy  with  a  bell  round  the  village 
announcing,  '  Punch  and  Judy  in  front  of  the 
Christmas  booth  beside  the  church ' ;  and  for  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  I  shrieked  and  sweated  in  that 
awful  little  pen.  But  it  was  almost  worth  it  to 
hear  the  shouts  of  approval  and  laughter  that 
greeted  my  performance.  It  was  cold  work 
standing  about,  so  that  the  crowd  was  quite  ready 
to  respond  when  Punch,  after  being  duly  hanged, 
came  forward  and  invited  all  into  the  booth  for 
the  hot  coffee  which  Judy  had  ordered. 


34  BLACK  ROCK 

In  they  trooped,  and  Quatre  Bras  was  won. 

No  sooner  were  the  miners  safely  engaged  with 
their  coffee  than  I  heard  a  great  noise  of  bells 
and  of  men  shouting ;  and  on  reaching  the  street 
I  saw  that  the  men  from  the  lumber  camp  were 
coming  in.  Two  immense  sleighs,  decorated  with 
ribbons  and  spruce  boughs,  each  drawn  by  a  four- 
horse  team  gaily  adorned,  filled  with  some  fifty 
men,  singing  and  shouting  with  all  their  might, 
were  coming  down  the  hill  road  at  full  gallop. 
Round  the  corner  they  swung,  dashed  at  full  speed 
across  the  bridge  and  down  the  street,  and  pulled 
up  after  they  had  made  the  circuit  of  a  block, 
to  the  great  admiration  of  the  onlookers.  Among 
others  Slavin  sauntered  up  good-naturedly,  making 
himself  agreeable  to  Sandy  and  those  who  were 
helping  to  unhitch  his  team. 

'  Oh,  you  need  not  take  trouble  with  me  or  my 
team,  Mike  Slavin.  Batchees  and  me  and  the 
boys  can  look  after  them  fine,'  said  Sandy  coolly. 

This  rejecting  of  hospitality  was  perfectly  under- 
stood by  Slavin  and  by  all. 

'  Dat  's  too  bad,  heh  ? '  said  Baptiste  wickedly ; 
*  and,  Sandy,  he 's  got  good  money  on  his  pocket 
for  sure,  too.'  The  boys  laughed,  and  Slavin, 


THE  BLACK  ROCK  CHRISTMAS         35 

Joining  in,  turned  away  with  Keefe  and  Blaney ; 
but  by  the  look  in  his  eye  I  knew  he  was  playing 
'  Br'er  Rabbit/  and  lying  low. 

Mr.  Craig  just  then  came  up, '  Hello,  boys !  too 
late  for  Punch  and  Judy,  but  just  in  time  for  hot 
coffee  and  doughnuts.' 

1  Bon ;  dat  's  fuss  rate/  said  Baptiste  heartily ; 
where  you  keep  him  ? ' 

'Up  in  the  tent  next  the  church  there.  The 
miners  are  all  in.' 

'  Ah,  dat  so  ?  Dat 's  bad  news  for  the  shanty- 
men,  heh,  Sandy?'  said  the  little  Frenchman 
dolefully. 

1  There  was  a  clothes-basket  full  of  doughnuts 
and  a  boiler  of  coffee  left  as  I  passed  just  now/ 
said  Craig  encouragingly. 

1  Aliens,  mes  gardens  ;  vite !  never  say  keel  1 ' 
cried  Baptiste  excitedly,  stripping  off  the  harness. 

But  Sandy  would  not  leave  the  horses  till 
they  were  carefully  rubbed  down,  blanketed, 
and  fed,  for  he  was  entered  for  the  four-horse 
race  and  it  behoved  him  to  do  his  best  to  win. 
Besides,  he  scorned  to  hurry  himself  for  anything 
so  unimportant  as  eating;  that  he  considered 
hardly  worthy  even  of  Baptiste.  Mr.  Craig 


36  BLACK  ROCK 

managed  to  get  a  word  with  him  before  he  wei.t 
off,  and  I  saw  Sandy  solemnly  and  emphatically 
shake  his  head,  saying,  'Ah!  we'll  beat  him 
this  day/  and  I  gathered  that  he  was  added  to 
the  vigilance  committee. 

Old  man  Nelson  was  busy  with  his  own  team. 
He  turned  slowly  at  Mr.  Craig's  greeting,  '  How 
is  it,  Nelson  ? '  and  it  was  with  a  very  grave  voice 
he  answered, '  I  hardly  know,  sir ;  but  I  am  not 
gone  yet,  though  it  seems  little  to  hold  to.' 

'  All  you  want  for  a  grip  is  what  your  hand  can 
cover.  What  would  you  have?  And  besides, 
do  you  know  why  you  are  not  gone  yet  ? ' 

The  old  man  waited,  looking  at  the  minister 
gravely. 

'  Because  He  hasn't  let  go  His  grip  of  you.' 

'  How  do  you  know  He 's  gripped  me  ? ' 

'  Now,  look  here,  Nelson,  do  you  want  to  quit 
this  thing  and  give  it  all  up  ? ' 

'No,  no!  For  Heaven's  sake,  no!  Why,  do 
you  think  I  have  lost  it?'  said  Nelson,  almost 
piteously. 

1  Well,  He 's  keener  about  it  than  you  ;  and  I  '11 
bet  you  haven't  thought  it  worth  while  to  thank 
Him.' 


THE  BLACK  ROCK  CHRISTMAS          37 

1  To  thank  Him,'  he  repeated,  almost  stupidly, 
'for • 

'For  keeping  you  where  you  are  overnight/ 
said  Mr.  Craig,  almost  sternly. 

The  old  man  gazed  at  the  minister,  a  light 
growing  in  his  eyes. 

'  You  're  right.  Thank  God,  you  're  right' 
And  then  he  turned  quickly  away,  and  went  into 
the  stable  behind  his  team.  It  was  a  minute 
before  he  came  out  Over  his  face  there  was  a 
trembling  joy. 

1  Can  I  do  anything  for  you  to-day  ? '  he  asked 
humbly. 

*  Indeed  you  just  can/  said  the  minister,  taking 
his  hand  and  shaking  it  very  warmly ;  and  then 
he  told  him  Slavin's  programme  and  ours. 

'Sandy  is  all  right  till  after  his  race.  After 
that  is  his  time  of  danger/  said  the  minister. 

'  I  '11  stay  with  him,  sir/  said  old  Nelson,  in  the 
tone  of  a  man  taking  a  covenant,  and  immediately 
set  off  for  the  coffee-tent 

'Here  comes  another  recruit  for  your  corps/ 
1  said,  pointing  to  Leslie  Graeme,  who  was  coming 
down  the  street  at  that  moment  in  his  light 
sleigh. 


38  BLACK  ROCK 

'  I  am  not  so  sure.  Do  you  think  you  could 
get  him  ? ' 

I  laughed.    '  You  are  a  good  one.' 

'Well,'  he  replied,  half  defiantly,  'is  not  this 
your  fight  too  ? ' 

'You  make  me  think  so,  though  I  am  bound 
to  say  I  hardly  recognise  myself  to-day.  But 
here  goes,'  and  before  I  knew  it  I  was  describing 
our  plans  to  Graeme,  growing  more  and  more 
enthusiastic  as  he  sat  in  his  sleigh,  listening  with 
a  quizzical  smile  I  didn't  quite  like. 

'  He 's  got  you  too,'  he  said  ;  '  I  feared  so.' 

'  Well,'  I  laughed,  '  perhaps  so.  But  I  want  to 
lick  that  man  Slavin.  I  've  just  seen  him,  and 
he's  just  what  Craig  calls  him,  "a  slick  son  of 
the  devil."  Don't  be  shocked ;  he  says  it  is 
Scripture.' 

'Revised  version,'  said  Graeme  gravely,  while 
Craig  looked  a  little  abashed. 

'  What  is  assigned  me,  Mr.  Craig  ?  for  I  know 
that  this  man  is  simply  your  agent1 

I  repudiated  the  idea,  while  Mr.  Craig  said 
nothing. 

'  What 's  my  part  ? '  demanded  Graeme. 

1  Well,'  said  Mr.  Craig  hesitatingly,  '  of  course 


THE  BLACK  ROCK  CHRISTMAS         39 

I  would  do  nothing  till  I  had  consulted  you ;  but 
I  want  a  man  to  take  my  place  at  the  sports.  I 
am  referee.' 

'  That 's  all  right,'  said  Graeme,  with  an  air  of 
relief;  'I  expected  something  hard.' 

'And  then  I  thought  you  would  not  mind 
presiding  at  dinner — I  want  it  to  go  off  well.' 

'  Did  you  notice  that  ? '  said  Graeme  to  me. 
'  Not  a  bad  touch,  eh  ? ' 

'That's  nothing  to  the  way  he  touched  me. 
Wait  and  learn,'  I  answered,  while  Craig  looked 
quite  distressed.  'He'll  do  it,  Mr.  Craig,  never 
fear,'  I  said, '  and  any  other  little  duty  that  may 
occur  to  you.' 

'Now  that's  too  bad  of  you.  That  is  all  I 
want,  honour  bright/  he  replied ;  adding,  as  he 
turned  away, 'you  are  just  in  time  for  a  cup  of 
coffee,  Mr.  Graeme.  Now  I  must  see  Mrs. 
Mavor.' 

'  Who  is  Mrs.  Mavor  ? '  I  demanded  of  Graeme. 

'  Mrs.  Mavor  ?    The  miners'  guardian  angel.' 

We  put  up  the  horses  and  se-t  off  for  coffee.  As 
we  approached  the  booth  Graeme  caught  sight  of 
the  Punch  and  Judy  show,  stood  still  in  amaze- 
ment, and  exclaimed, '  Can  the  dead  live?' 


40  BLACK  ROCK 

1  Punch  and  Judy  never  die,'  I  replied  solemnly. 

'  But  the  old  manipulator  is  dead  enough,  poor 
old  beggar ! ' 

1  But  he  left  his  mantle,  as  you  see.' 

He  looked  at  me  a  moment 

'  What !  do  you  mean,  you ? ' 

'  Yes,  that  is  exactly  what  I  do  mean.' 

'  He  is  a  great  man,  that  Craig  fellow — a  tt*iy 
great  man.' 

And  then  he  leaned  up  against  a  tree  and 
laughed  till  the  tears  came.  '  I  say,  old  boy, 
don't  mind  me,'  he  gasped, '  but  do  you  remember 
the  old  'Varsity  show  ? ' 

'  Yes,  you  villain  ;  and  I  remember  your  part  in 
it.  I  wonder  how  you  can,  even  at  this  remote 
date,  laugh  at  it.'  For  I  had  a  vivid  recollection 
of  how  after  a  'chaste  and  highly  artistic  per- 
formance of  this  mediaeval  play '  had  been  given 
before  a  distinguished  Toronto  audience,  the 
trap  door  by  which  I  had  entered  my  box  was 
fastened,  and  I  was  left  to  swelter  in  my  cage, 
and  forced  to  listen  to  the  suffocated  laughter 
from  the  wings  and  the  stage  whispers  of  '  Hello, 
Mr.  Punch,  where 's  the  baby  ? '  And  for  many 
a  day  after  I  was  subjected  to  anxious  ino  nines 


THE  BLACK  ROCK  CHRISTMAS         41 

as  to  the  locality  and  health  of  '  the  baby/  and 
whether  it  was  able  to  be  out. 

'  Oh,  the  dear  old  days ! '  he  kept  saying,  over 
and  over,  in  a  tone  so  full  of  sadness  that  my 
heart  grew  sore  for  him  and  I  forgave  him,  as 
many  a  time  before. 

The  sports  passed  off  in  typical  Western  style. 
In  addition  to  the  usual  running  and  leaping 
contests,  there  was  rifle  and  pistol  shooting,  in 
both  of  which  old  man  Nelson  stood  first,  with 
Shaw,  foreman  of  the  mines,  second. 

The  great  event  of  the  day,  however,  was  to  be 
the  four-horse  race,  for  which  three  teams  were 
entered — one  from  the  mines  driven  by  Nixon, 
Craig's  friend,  a  citizens'  team,  and  Sandy's.  The 
race  was  really  between  the  miners'  team,  and 
that  from  the  woods,  for  the  citizens'  team,  though 
made  up  of  speedy  horses,  had  not  been  driven 
much  together,  and  knew  neither  their  driver  nor 
each  other.  In  the  miners'  team  were  four  bays, 
very  powerful,  a  trifle  heavy  perhaps,  but  well 
matched,  perfectly  trained,  and  perfectly  handled 
by  their  driver.  Sandy  had  his  long  rangy  roans, 
and  for  leaders  a  pair  of  half-broken  pinto 
bronchos.  The  pintos,  caught  the  summer  before 


4*  BLACK  ROCK 

upon  the  Alberta  prairies,  were  fleet  as  deer,  but 
wicked  and  uncertain.  They  were  Baptiste's 
special  care  and  pride.  If  they  would  only  run 
straight  there  was  little  doubt  that  they  would 
carry  the  roans  and  themselves  to  glory ;  but  one 
could  not  tell  the  moment  they  might  bolt  or 
kick  things  to  pieces. 

Being  the  only  non-partisan  in  the  crowd  I  was 
asked  to  referee.  The  race  was  about  half  a  mile 
and  return,  the  first  and  last  quarters  being  upon 
the  ice.  The  course,  after  leaving  the  ice,  led  up 
from  the  river  by  a  long  easy  slope  to  the  level 
above ;  and  at  the  further  end  curved  somewhat 
sharply  round  the  Old  Fort  The  only  condition 
attaching  to  the  race  was  that  the  teams  should 
start  from  the  scratch,  make  the  turn  of  the 
Fort,  and  finish  at  the  scratch.  There  were  no 
vexing  regulations  as  to  fouls.  The  man  making 
the  foul  would  find  it  necessary  to  reckon  with 
the  crowd,  which  was  considered  sufficient 
guarantee  for  a  fair  and  square  race.  Owing  to 
the  hazards  of  the  course,  the  result  would  depend 
upon  the  skill  of  the  drivers  quite  as  much  as 
upon  the  speed  of  the  teams.  The  points  of 
hazard  were  at  the  turn  round  the  Old  Fort,  and 


THE  BLACK  ROCK  CHRISTMAS         43 

at  a  little  ravine  which  led  down  to  the  river,  over 
which  the  road  passed  by  means  of  a  long  log 
bridge  or  causeway. 

From  a  point  upon  the  high  bank  of  the  river 
the  whole  course  lay  in  open  view.  It  was  a 
scene  full  of  life  and  vividly  picturesque.  There 
were  miners  in  dark  clothes  and  peak  caps; 
citizens  in  ordinary  garb ;  ranchmen  in  wide 
cowboy  hats  and  buckskin  shirts  and  leggings, 
some  with  cartridge-belts  and  pistols;  a  few 
half-breeds  and  Indians  in  half-native,  half- 
civilised  dress ;  and  scattering  through  the  crowd 
the  lumbermen  with  gay  scarlet  and  blue  blanket 
coats,  and  some  with  knitted  tuques  of  the  same 
colours.  A  very  good-natured  but  extremely 
uncertain  crowd  it  was.  At  the  head  of  each 
horse  stood  a  man,  but  at  the  pintos'  heads 
Baptiste  stood  alone,  trying  to  hold  down  the  off 
leader,  thrown  into  a  frenzy  of  fear  by  the  yelling 
of  the  crowd. 

Gradually  all  became  quiet,  till,  in  the  midst 
of  absolute  stillness,  came  the  words,  'Are  you 
ready  ? ',  then  the  pistol-shot  and  the  great  race 
had  begun.  Above  the  roar  of  the  crowd  came 
the  shrill  cry  of  Baptiste,  as  he  struck  his 


44  BLACK  ROCK 

broncho  with  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and  swung 
himself  into  the  sleigh  beside  Sandy,  as  it  shot 
past. 

Like  a  flash  the  bronchos  sprang  to  the  front, 
two  lengths  before  the  other  teams  ;  but,  terrified 
by  the  yelling  of  the  crowd,  instead  of  bending 
to  the  left  bank  up  which  the  road  wound,  they 
wheeled  to  the  right  and  were  almost  across  the 
river  before  Sandy  could  swing  them  back  into 
the  course. 

Baptiste's  cries,  a  curious  mixture  of  French 
and  English,  continued  to  strike  through  all  other 
sounds  till  they  gained  the  top  of  the  slope  to 
find  the  others  almost  a  hundred  yards  in  front, 
the  citizens'  team  leading,  with  the  miners'  follow- 
ing close.  The  moment  th«  pintos  caught  sight 
of  the  teams  before  them  they  set  off  at  a  terrific 
pace  and  steadily  devoured  the  intervening  space. 
Nearer  and  nearer  the  turn  came,  the  eight  horses 
in  front,  running  straight  and  well  within  their 
speed.  After  them  flew  the  pintos,  running 
savagely  with  ears  set  back,  leading  well  the  big 
roans,  thundering  along  and  gaining  at  every 
bound.  And  now  the  citizens'  team  had  almost 
reached  the  Fort,  running  hard,  and  drawing 


THE  BLACK  ROCK  CHRISTMAS         45 

away  from  the  bays.  But  Nixon  knew  what  he 
was  about,  and  was  simply  steadying  his  team 
for  the  turn.  The  event  proved  his  wisdom,  for 
in  the  turn  the  leading  team  left  the  track,  lost 
a  moment  or  two  in  the  deep  snow,  and  before 
they  could  regain  the  road  the  bays  had  swept 
superbly  past,  leaving  their  rivals  to  follow  in 
the  rear.  On  came  the  pintos,  swiftly  nearing 
the  Fort.  Surely  at  that  pace  they  cannot  make 
the  turn.  But  Sandy  knows  his  leaders.  They 
have  their  eyes  upon  the  teams  in  front,  and 
need  no  touch  of  rein.  Without  the  slightest 
change  in  speed  the  nimble-footed  bronchos  round 
the  turn,  hauling  the  big  roans  after  them,  and 
fall  in  behind  the  citizens'  team,  which  is  regain- 
ing steadily  the  ground  lost  in  the  turn. 

And  now  the  struggle  is  for  the  bridge  over 
the  ravine.  The  bays  in  front,  running  with 
mouths  wide  open,  are  evidently  doing  their  best ; 
behind  them,  and  every  moment  nearing  them, 
but  at  the  limit  of  their  speed  too,  come  the 
lighter  and  fleeter  citizens'  team ;  while  opposite 
their  driver  are  the  pintos,  pulling  hard,  eager 
and  fresh.  Their  temper  is  too  uncertain  to  send 
them  to  the  front;  they  run  well  following,  but 


46  BLACK  ROCK 

when  leading  cannot  be  trusted,  and  besides,  a 
broncho  hates  a  bridge;  so  Sandy  holds  them 
where  they  are,  waiting  and  hoping  for  his  chance 
after  the  bridge  is  crossed.  Foot  by  foot  the 
citizens'  team  creep  up  upon  the  flank  of  the  bays, 
with  the  pintos  in  turn  hugging  them  closely, 
till  it  seems  as  if  the  three,  if  none  slackens,  must 
strike  the  bridge  together;  and  this  will  mean 
destruction  to  one  at  least.  This  danger  Sandy 
perceives,  but  he  dare  not  check  his  leaders.  Sud- 
denly, within  a  few  yards  of  the  bridge,  Baptiste 
throws  himself  upon  the  lines,  wrenches  them  out 
of  Sandy's  hands,  and,  with  a  quick  swing,  faces 
the  pintos  down  the  steep  side  of  the  ravine, 
which  is  almost  sheer  ice  with  a  thin  coat  of 
snow.  It  is  a  daring  course  to  take,  for  the 
ravine,  though  not  deep,  is  full  of  undergrowth, 
and  is  partially  closed  up  by  a  brush  heap  at  the 
further  end.  But,  with  a  yell,  Baptiste  hurls  his 
four  horses  down  the  slope,  and  into  the  under- 
growth. 'Allons,  mes  enfants!  Courage!  vite, 
vite ! '  cries  their  driver,  and  nobly  do  the  pintos 
respond.  Regardless  of  bushes  and  brush  heaps, 
they  tear  their  way  throu  jh  ;  but,  as  they  emerge, 
the  hind  bob-sleigh  catches  a  root,  and,  with  a 


THE  BLACK  ROCK  CHRISTMAS         47 

crash,  the  sleigh  is  hurled  high  in  the  air. 
Baptiste's  cries  ring  out  high  and  shrill  as  ever, 
encouraging  his  team,  and  never  cease  till,  with 
a  plunge  and  a  scramble,  they  clear  the  brush 
heap  lying  at  the  mouth  of  the  ravine,  and  are 
out  on  the  ice  on  the  river,  with  Baptiste  stand- 
ing on  the  front  bob,  the  box  trailing  behind,  and 
Sandy  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

Three  hundred  yards  of  the  course  remain. 
The  bays,  perfectly  handled,  have  gained  at  the 
bridge  and  in  the  descent  to  the  ice,  and  are 
leading  the  citizens'  team  by  half  a  dozen  sleigh 
lengths.  Behind  both  comes  Baptiste.  It  is  now 
or  never  for  the  pintos.  The  rattle  of  the  trailing 
box,  together  with  the  wild  yelling  of  the  crowd 
rushing  down  the  bank,  excites  the  bronchos  to 
madness,  and,  taking  the  bits  in  their  teeth,  they 
do  their  first  free  running  that  day.  Past  the 
citizens'  team  like  a  whirlwind  they  dash,  clear 
the  intervening  space,  and  gain  the  flanks  of  the 
bays.  Can  the  bays  hold  them?  Over  them 
leans  their  driver,  plying  for  the  first  time  the 
hissing  lash.'  Only  fifty  yards  more.  The  miners 
begin  to  yell.  But  Baptiste,  waving  his  lines  high 
in  one  hand,  seizes  his  tuque  with  the  other, 


48  BLACK  ROCK 

whirls  it  about  his  head  and  flings  it  with  a 
fiercer  yell  than  ever  at  the  bronchos.  Like  the 
bursting  of  a  hurricane  the  pintos  leap  forward, 
and  with  a  splendid  rush  cross  the  scratch,  winners 
by  their  own  length. 

There  was  a  wild  quarter  of  an  hour.  The 
shantymen  had  torn  off  their  coats  and  were 
waving  them  wildly  and  tossing  them  high,  while 
the  ranchers  added  to  the  uproar  by  emptying 
their  revolvers  into  the  air  in  a  way  that  made 
one  nervous. 

When  the  crowd  was  somewhat  quieted  Sandy's 
stiff  figure  appeared,  slowly  making  towards  them. 
A  dozen  lumbermen  ran  to  him,  eagerly  inquiring 
if  he  were  hurt.  But  Sandy  could  only  curse  the 
little  Frenchman  for  losing  the  race. 

'  Lost !  Why,  man,  we  've  won  it ! '  shouted  a 
voice,  at  which  Sandy's  rage  vanished,  and  he 
allowed  himself  to  be  carried  in.upon  the  shoulders 
of  his  admirers. 

'  Where 's  the  lad  ? '  was  his  first  question. 
The  bronchos  are  off  with  him.     He 's  down 
at  the  rapids  like  enough.' 

'Let  me  go,'  shouted  Sandy,  setting  off  at  a 
run  in  the  track  of  the  sleigh.  He  had  not  eone 


THE  BLACK  ROCK  CHRISTMAS         49 

far  before  he  met  Baptiste  coming  back  with  his 
team  foaming,  the  roans  going  quietly,  but  the 
bronchos  dancing,  and  eager  to  be  at  it  again. 

'  Voila !  bully  boy !  tank  the  bon  Dieu,  Sandy ; 
you  not  keel,  heh?  Ah!  you  are  one  grand 
chevalier,'  exclaimed  Baptiste,  hauling  Sandy  in 
and  thrusting  the  lines  into  his  hands.  And  so 
they  came  back,  the  sleigh  box  still  dragging 
behind,  the  pintos  executing  fantastic  figures  on 
their  hind  legs,  and  Sandy  holding  them  down. 
The  little  Frenchman  struck  a  dramatic  attitude 
and  called  out — 

•  Voila !  What 's  the  matter  wiz  Sandy,  heh  ? ' 
The  roar  that  answered  set  the  bronchos  off 
again  plunging  and  kicking,  and  only  when 
Baptiste  got  them  by  the  heads  could  they  be 
induced  to  stand  long  enough  to  allow  Sandy 
to  be  proclaimed  winner  of  the  race.  Several  of 
the  lumbermen  sprang  into  the  sleigh  box  with 
Sandy  and  Baptiste,  among  them  Keefe,  followed 
by  Nelson,  and  the  first  part  of  the  great  day 
was  over.  Slavin  could  not  understand  the  new 
order  of  things.  That  a  great  event  like  the  four- 
horse  race  should  not  be  followed  by  '  drinks  all 
round '  was  to  him  at  once  disgusting  and  incom- 


50.  BLACK  ROCK 

prehensible;  and,  realising  his  defeat  for  the 
moment,  he  fell  into  the  crowd  and  disappeared. 
But  he  left  behind  him  his  'runners.'  He  had 
not  yet  thrown  up  the  game. 

Mr.  Craig  meantime  came  to  me,  and,  looking 
anxiously  after  Sandy  in  his  sleigh,  with  his 
frantic  crowd  of  yelling  admirers,  said  in  a  gloomy 
voice,  'Poor  Sandy!  He  is  easily  caught,  and 
Keefe  has  the  devil's  cunning.' 

'He  won't  touch  Slavin's  whisky  to-day/  I 
answered  confidently. 

'  There  '11  be  twenty  bottles  waiting  him  in  the 
stable,'  he  replied  bitterly, '  and  I  can't  go  follow- 
ing him  up.' 

'  He  won't  stand  that,  no  man  would.  God 
help  us  all.'  I  could  hardly  recognise  myself,  for 
I  found  in  my  heart  an  earnest  echo  to  that 
prayer  as  I  watched  him  go  toward  the  crowd 
again,  his  face  set  in  strong  determination.  He 
looked  like  the  captain  of  a  forlorn  hope,  and  I 
was  proud  to  be  following  him. 


WATERLOO 
OUR  FIGHT—HIS  VICTORY 


CHAPTER    III 

WATERLOO.     OUR  FIGHT— HIS  VICTORY 

THE  sports  were  over,  and  there  remained  still 
an  hour  to  be  filled  in  before  dinner.  It  was  an 
hour  full  of  danger  to  Craig's  hopes  of  victory, 
for  the  men  were  wild  with  excitement,  and 
ready  for  the  most  reckless  means  of  '  slinging 
their  dust1  I  could  not  but  admire  the  skill 
with  which  Mr.  Craig  caught  their  attention. 

4  Gentlemen,'  he  called  out,  '  we  Ve  forgotten 
the  judge  of  the  great  race.  Three  cheers  for 
Mr.  Connor ! ' 

Two  of  the  shantymen  picked  me  up  and 
hoisted  me  on  their  shoulders  while  the  cheers 
were  given. 

1  Announce  the  Punch  and  Judy,'  he  entreated 
me,  in  a  low  voice.  I  did  so  in  a  little  speech, 
and  was  forthwith  borne  aloft,  through  the  street 
to  the  booth,  followed  by  the  whole  crowd,  cheer- 
ing  like  mad 


54  BLACK  ROCK 

The  excitement  of  the  crowd  caught  me,  and 
for  an  hour  I  squeaked  and  worked  the  wires  of 
the  immortal  and  unhappy  family  in  a  manner 
hitherto  unapproached  by  me  at  least.  I  was 
glad  enough  when  Graeme  came  to  tell  me  to 
send  the  men  in  to  dinner.  This  Mr.  Punch  did 
in  the  most  gracious  manner,  and  again  with 
cheers  for  Punch's  master  they  trooped  tumultu- 
ously  into  the  tent 

We  had  only  well  begun  when  Baptiste  came 
in  quietly  but  hurriedly  and  whispered  to  me — 

1  M'sieu  Craig,  he 's  gone  to  Slavin's,  and  would 
lak  you  and  M'sieu  Graeme  would  follow  queek. 
Sandy  he 's  take  one  leel  drink  up  at  de  stable, 
and  he 's  go  mad  lak  one  diable.' 

I  sent  him  for  Graeme,  who  was  presiding  at 
dinner,  and  set  off  for  Slavin's  at  a  run.  There  I 
found  Mr.  Craig  and  Nelson  holding  Sandy,  mora 
than  half  drunk,  back  from  Slavin,  who,  stripped 
to  the  shirt,  was  coolly  waiting  with  a  taunting 
smile. 

'  Let  me  go,  Mr.  Craig,'  Sandy  was  saying, '  I 
am  a  good  Presbyterian.  He  is  a  Papist  thief; 
and  he  has  my  money  ;  and  I  will  have  it  out  of 
the  soul  of  him.' 


WATERLOO.    OUR  FIGHT— HIS  VICTORY  55 

1  Let  him  go,  preacher,'  sneered  Slavin,  '  I  '11 
cool  him  off  for  yez.  But  ye  'd  better  hold  him 
if  yez  wants  his  mug  left  on  to  him.' 

'  Let  him  go ! '  Keefe  was  shouting. 

'  Hands  off! '  Blaney  was  echoing. 

I  pushed  my  way  in.    '  What 's  up  ? '  I  cried. 

1  Mr.  Connor,'  said  Sandy  solemnly,  'it  is  a 
gentleman  you  are,  though  your  name  is  against 
you,  and  I  am  a  good  Presbyterian,  and  I  can  give 
you  the  Commandments  and  Reasons  annexed 
to  them  ;  but  yon 's  a  thief,  a  Papist  thief,  and  I 
am  justified  in  getting  my  money  out  of  his  soul.' 

'  But,'  I  remonstrated, '  you  won't  get  it  in  this 
way.' 

1  He  has  my  money,'  reiterated  Sandy. 

'  He  is  a  blank  liar,  and  he 's  afraid  to  take  it 
up,'  said  Slavin,  in  a  low,  cool  tone. 

With  a  roar  Sandy  broke  away  and  rushed  at 
him  ;  but,  without  moving  from  his  tracks,  Slavin 
met  him  with  a  straight  left-hander  and  laid  him 
flat 

'  Hooray,'  yelled  Blaney,  *  Ireland  for  ever!'  and, 
seizing  the  iron  poker,  swung  it  around  his  head, 
crying,  '  Back,  or,  by  the  holy  Moses,  I  '11  kill 
the  first  man  that  interferes  wid  the  game.' 


$6  BLACK  ROCK 

'  Give  it  to  him ! '  Keefe  said  savagely. 

Sandy  rose  slowly,  gazing  round  stupidly. 

'  He  don't  know  what  hit  him,'  laughed  Keefe. 

This  roused  the  Highlander,  and  saying, '  I  '11 
settle  you  afterwards,  Mister  Keefe,'  he  rushed  in 
again  at  Slavin.  Again  Slavin  met  him  again 
with  his  left,  staggered  him,  and,  before  he  fell, 
took  a  step  forward  and  delivered  a  terrific  right- 
hand  blow  on  his  jaw.  Poor  Sandy  went  down 
in  a  heap  amid  the  yells  of  Blaney,  Keefe,  and 
some  others  of  the  gang.  I  was  in  despair  when 
in  came  Baptiste  and  Graeme. 

One  look  at  Sandy,  and  Baptiste  tore  off  his 
coat  and  cap,  slammed  them  on  the  floor,  danced 
on  them,  and  with  a  long-drawn  '  sap-r-r-r-rie,' 
rushed  at  Slavin.  But  Graeme  caught  him  by 
the  back  of  the  neck,  saying,  '  Hold  on,  little 
man,'  and  turning  to  Slavin,  pointed  to  Sandy, 
who  was  reviving  under  Nelson's  care,  and  said, 
•What's  this  for? 

'  Ask  him,'  said  Slavin  insolently.    '  He  knows.' 

1  What  is  it,  Nelson  ? ' 

Nelson  explained  that  Sandy,  after  drinking 
some  at  the  stable  and  a  glass  at  the  Black  Rock 
Hotel,  had  come  down  here  with  Keefe  and  the 


WATERLOO.    OUR  FIGHT— HIS  VICTORY  57 

others,  had  lost  his  money,  and  was  accusing 
Slavin  of  robbing  him. 

'Did  you  furnish  him  with  liquor?'  said 
Graeme  sternly. 

'  It  is  none  of  your  business,'  replied  Slavin, 
with  an  oath. 

'I  shall  make  it  my  business.  It  is  not  the 
first  time  my  men  have  lost  money  in  this 
saloon.' 

'  You  lie/  said  Slavin,  with  deliberate  emphasis. 

1  Slavin/  said  Graeme  quietly, '  it 's  a  pity  you 
said  that,  because,  unless  you  apologise  in  one 
minute,  I  shall  make  you  sorry.' 

1  Apologise  ? '  roared  Slavin, '  apologise  to  you  ? ' 
calling  him  a  vile  name. 

Graeme  grew  white,  and  said  even  more  slowly, 
'  Now  you  '11  have  to  take  it ;  no  apology  will 
do.' 

He  slowly  stripped  off  coat  and  vest.  Mr. 
Craig  interposed,  begging  Graeme  to  let  th« 
matter  pass.  '  Surely  he  is  not  worth  it* 

'  Mr.  Craig/  said  Graeme,  with  an  easy  smile, 
'you  don't  understand.  No  man  can  call  me 
that  name  and  walk  around  afterwards  feeling 
well* 


5»  BLACK  ROCK 

Then,  turning  to  Slavin,  he  said, '  Now,  If  yon 
want  a  minute's  rest,  I  can  wait* 

Slavin,  with  a  curse,  bade  him  come. 

1  Blaney,'  said  Graeme  sharply, '  you  get  back.1 
Blaney  promptly  stepped  back  to  Keefe's  side. 
1  Nelson,  you  and  Baptiste  can  see  that  they  stay 
there.'  The  old  man  nodded  and  looked  at  Craig, 
who  simply  said, '  Do  the  best  you  can.' 

It  was  a  good  fight.  Slavin  had  plenty  of 
pluck,  and  for  a  time  forced  the  fighting,  Graeme 
guarding  easily  and  tapping  him  aggravatingly 
about  the  nose  and  eyes,  drawing  blood,  but  not 
disabling  him.  Gradually  there  came  a  look  of 
fear  into  Slavin's  eyes,  and  the  beads  stood  upon 
his  face.  He  had  met  his  master. 

'  Now,  Slavin,  you  're  beginning  to  be  sorry  ;  and 
now  I  am  going  to  show  you  what  you  are  made 
of.1  Graeme  made  one  or  two  lightning  passes, 
struck  Slavin  one,  two,  three  terrific  blows,  and 
laid  him  quite  flat  and  senseless.  Keefe  and 
Blaney  both  sprang  forward,  but  there  was  a 
savage  kind  of  growl. 

'  Hold,  there ! '  It  was  old  man  Nelson  looking 
along  a  pistol  barrel.  'You  know  me,  Keefe, 
he  said.  '  You  won't  do  any  murder  this  time.' 


WATERLOO.     OUR  FIGHT— HIS  VICTORY  59 

Keefe  turned  green  and  yellow,  and  staggered 
back,  while  Slavin  slowly  rose  to  his  feet 

'Will  you  take  some  more?'  said  Graeme. 
1  You  haven't  got  much ;  but  mind  I  have  stopped 
playing  with  you.  Put  up  your  gun,  Nelson. 
No  one  will  interfere  now.' 

Slavin  hesitated,  then  rushed,  but  Graeme 
stepped  to  meet  him,  and  we  saw  Slavin's  heels 
in  the  air  as  he  fell  back  upon  his  neck  and 
shoulders  and  lay  still,  with  his  toes  quivering. 

'Bon!'  yelled  Baptiste.  'Bully  boy!  Dat's 
de  bon  stuff.  Dat  's  larn  him  one  good  lesson.' 
But  immediately  he  shrieked, '  Gar-r-r-r-e  a  vous ! ' 

He  was  too  late,  for  there  was  a  crash  of  break- 
ing glass,  and  Graeme  fell  to  the  floor  with  a  long 
deep  cut  on  the  side  of  his  head.  Keefe  had 
hurled  a  bottle  with  all  too  sure  an  aim,  and  had 
fled.  I  thought  he  was  dead  ;  but  we  carried  him 
out,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  groaned,  opened  his 
eyes,  and  sank  again  into  insensibility. 

'  Where  can  we  take  him  ? '  I  cried. 

'  To  my  shack,'  said  Mr.  Craig. 

'  Is  there  no  place  nearer  ? ' 

1  Yes ;  Mrs.  Mavor's.    I  shall  run  on  to  tell  her.' 

She  met  us  at  the  door.     I  had  in  mind  to  say 


60  BLACK  ROCK 

some  words  of  apology,  but  when  I  looked  upon 
her  face  I  forgot  my  words,  forgot  my  business 
at  her  door,  and  stood  simply  looking. 

'  Come  in !  Bring  him  in !  Please  do  not 
wait/  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  sweet  and  soft 
and  firm. 

We  laid  him  in  a  large  room  at  the  back  of  the 
shop  over  which  Mrs.  Mavor  lived.  Together  we 
dressed  the  wound,  her  firm  white  fingers,  skilful 
as  if  with  long  training.  Before  the  dressing  was 
finished  I  sent  Craig  off,  for  the  time  had  come 
for  the  Magic  Lantern  in  the  church,  and  I  knew 
how  critical  the  moment  was  in  our  fight.  '  Go/ 
I  said ;  '  he  is  coming  to,  and  we  do  not  need 
you.' 

In  a  few  moments  more  Graeme  revived,  and, 
gazing  about,  asked,  'What's  all  this  about?' 
and  then,  recollecting,  '  Ah !  that  brute  Keefe ' ; 
then  seeing  my  anxious  face  he  said  carelessly, 
'  Awful  bore,  ain't  it  ?  Sorry  to  trouble  you,  old 
fellow/ 

1  You  be  hanged ! '  I  said  shortly ;  for  his  old 
sweet  smile  was  playing  about  his  lips,  and  was 
almost  too  much  for  me.  '  Mrs.  Mavor  and  I  are 
in  command,  and  you  must  keep  perfectly  still.1 


WATERLOO.    OUR  FIGHT— HIS  VICTORY  61 

'Mrs.  Mavor?'  he  said,  in  surprise.  She  came 
forward,  with  a  slight  flush  on  her  face, 

1 1  think  you  know  me,  Mr.  Graeme.' 

'  I  have  often  seen  you,  and  wished  to  know 
you.  I  am  sorry  to  bring  you  this  trouble.' 

'  You  must  not  say  so,'  she  replied, '  but  let  me 
o  all  for  you  that  I  can.  And  now  the  doctor 
ays  you  are  to  lie  still.' 

1  The  doctor  ?  Oh !  you  mean  Connor.  He  is 
hardly  there  yet.  You  don't  know  each  other. 
Permit  me  to  present  Mr.  Connor,  Mrs.  Mavor.' 

As  she  bowed  slightly,  her  eyes  looked  into 
mine  with  serious  gaze,  not  inquiring,  yet  search- 
ing my  soul.  As  I  looked  into  her  eyes  I  forgot 
everything  about  me,  and  when  I  recalled  myself 
it  seemed  as  if  I  had  been  away  in  some  far 
place.  It  was  not  their  colour  or  their  brightness  ; 
I  do  not  yet  know  their  colour,  and  I  have  often 
looked  into  them  ;  and  they  were  not  bright ;  but 
they  were  clear,  and  one  could  look  far  down 
into  them,  and  in  their  depths  see  a  glowing, 
steady  light  As  I  went  to  get  some  drugs  from 
the  Black  Rock  doctor,  I  found  myself  wondering 
about  that  far- down  light ;  and  about  her  voice, 
how  it  could  get  that  sound  from  far  away. 


6a  BLACK  ROCK 

I  found  the  doctor  quite  drunk,  as  indeed  Mr. 
Craig  had  warned  ;  but  his  drugs  were  good,  and 
I  got  what  I  wanted  and  quickly  returned. 

While  Graeme  slept  Mrs.  Mavor  made  me  tea. 
As  the  evening  wore  on  I  told  her  the  events  of 
the  day,  dwelling  admiringly  upon  Craig's  general- 
ship. She  smiled  at  this. 

'  He  got  me  too,'  she  said.  '  Nixon  was  sent  to 
me  just  before  the  sports ;  and  I  don't  think  he 
will  break  down  to-day,  and  I  am  so  thankful.' 
And  her  eyes  glowed. 

'  I  am  quite  sure  he  won't,'  I  thought  to  myself, 
but  I  said  no  word. 

After  a  long  pause,  she  went  on,  '  I  have 
promised  Mr.  Craig  to  sing  to-night,  if  I  am 
needed ! '  and  then,  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
1  It  is  two  years  since  I  have  been  able  to  sing — 
two  years/  she  repeated,  'since' — and  then  her 
brave  voice  trembled — '  my  husband  was  killed.' 

I 1  quite  understand,'  I  said,  having  no  other 
word  on  my  tongue. 

'  And,'  she  went  on  quietly, '  I  fear  I  have  been 
selfish.  It  is  hard  to  sing  the  same  songs.  We 
were  very  happy.  But  the  miners  like  to  hear 
me  sing,  and  I  think  perhaps  it  helps  them  to 


WATERLOO.     OUR  FIGHT— HIS  VICTORY  63 

feel  less  lonely,  and  keeps  them  from  evil.  I 
shall  try  to-night,  if  I  am  needed.  Mr.  Craig 
will  not  ask  me  unless  he  must.' 

I  would  have  seen  every  miner  and  lumberman 
in  the  place  hideously  drunk  before  I  would  have 
asked  her  to  sing  one  song  while  her  heart  ached. 
I  wondered  at  Craig,  and  said,  rather  angrily — 

'  He  thinks  only  of  those  wretched  miners  and 
shantymen  of  his.' 

She  looked  at  me  with  wonder  in  her  eyes,  and 
said  gently,  'And  are  they  not  Christ's  too?' 

And  I  found  no  word  to  reply. 

It  was  ncaring  ten  o'clock,  and  I  was  wonder- 
ing how  the  fight  was  going,  and  hoping  that 
Mrs.  Mavor  would  not  be  needed,  when  the  door 
opened,  and  old  man  Nelson  and  Sandy,  the 
latter  much  battered  and  ashamed,  came  in  with 
the  word  for  Mrs.  Mavor. 

'  I  will  come,'  she  said  simply.  She  saw  me 
preparing  to  accompany  her,  and  asked, '  Do  you 
think  you  can  leave  him  ? ' 

1  He  will  do  quite  well  in  Nelson's  care.' 

'  Then  I  am  glad  ;  for  I  must  take  my  little 
one  with  me.  I  did  not  put  her  to  bed  in  case  I 
should  need  to  go,  and  I  may  not  leave  her.1 


64  BLACK  ROCK 

We  entered  the  church  by  the  back  door,  and 
saw  at  once  that  even  yet  the  battle  might  easily 
be  lost 

Some  miners  had  just  come  from  Slavin's, 
evidently  bent  on  breaking  up  the  meeting,  in 
revenge  for  the  collapse  of  the  dance,  which 
.Slavin  was  unable  to  enjoy,  much  less  direct 
Craig  was  gallantly  holding  his  ground,  rinding 
it  hard  work  to  keep  his  men  in  good  humour, 
and  so  prevent  a  fight,  for  there  were  cries  of 
'  Put  him  out !  Put  the  beast  out ! '  at  a  miner 
half  drunk  and  wholly  outrageous. 

The  look  of  relief  that  came  over  his  face  when 
Craig  caught  sight  of  us  told  how  anxious  he  had 
been,  and  reconciled  me  to  Mrs.  Mavor's  singing. 
1  Thank  the  good  God,'  he  said,  with  what  came 
near  being  a  sob, '  I  was  about  to  despair.' 

He  immediately  walked  to  the  front  and  called 
out — 

'Gentlemen,  if  you  wish  it,  Mrs.  Mavor  will 
sing.' 

There  was  a  dead  silence.  Some  one  began  to 
applaud,  but  a  miner  said  savagely,  'Stop  that, 
you  fool!' 

There  was  a  few  moments'  delay,  when  from 


WATERLOO.     OUR  FIGHT— HIS  VICTORY  65 

the  crowd  a  voice  called  out,  '  Does  Mrs.  Mavor 
wish  to  sing  ? '  followed  by  cries  of  '  Ay,  that 's 
it.'  Then  Shaw,  the  foreman  at  the  mines,  stood 
up  in  the  audience  and  said — 

'  Mr.  Craig  and  gentlemen,  you  know  that  three 
years  ago  I  was  known  as  "Old  Ricketts,"  and 
that  I  owe  all  I  am  to-night,  under  God,  to 
Mrs.  Mavor,  and ' — with  a  little  quiver  in  his 
voice — 'her  baby.  And  we  all  know  that  for 
two  years  she  has  not  sung;  and  we  all  know 
why.  And  what  I  say  is,  that  if  she  does  not  feel 
like  singing  to-night,  she  is  not  going  to  sing  to 
keep  any  drunken  brute  of  Slavin's  crowd  quiet' 

There  were  deep  growls  of  approval  all  over 
the  church.  I  could  have  hugged  Shaw  then  and 
there.  Mr.  Craig  went  to  Mrs.  Mavor,  and  after 
a  word  with  her  came  back  and  said — 

'Mrs.  Mavor  wishes  me  to  thank  her  dear 
friend  Mr.  Shaw,  but  says  she  would  like  to 
sing.' 

The  response  was  perfect  stillness.  Mr.  Craig 
sat  down  to  the  organ  and  played  the  opening 
bars  of  the  touching  melody,  'Oft  in  the  Stilly 
Night.'  Mrs.  Mavor  came  to  the  front,  and,  with 
a  smile  of  exquisite  sweetness  upon  her  sad  face, 


66  BLACK  ROCK 

and  looking  straight  at  us  with  her  glorious  eyes, 
began  to  sing. 

Her  voice,  a  rich  soprano,  even  and  true,  rose 
and  fell,  now  soft,  now  strong,  but  always  filling 
the  building,  pouring  around  us  floods  of  music. 
I  had  heard  Patti's  '  Home,  sweet  Home,'  and  of 
all  singing  that  alone  affected  me  as  did  this. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  verse  the  few  women  in 
the  church  and  some  men  were  weeping  quietly ; 
but  when  she  began  the  words — 

'  When  I  remember  all 
The  friends  once  linked  together,' 

sobs  came  on  every  side  from  these  tender- 
hearted fellows,  and  Shaw  quite  lost  his  grip. 
But  she  sang  steadily  on,  the  tone  clearer  and 
sweeter  and  fuller  at  every  note,  and  when  the 
sound  of  her  voice  died  away,  she  stood  looking 
at  the  men  as  if  in  wonder  that  they  should  weep. 
No  one  moved.  Mr.  Craig  played  softly  on,  and, 
wandering  through  many  variations,  arrived  at 

last  at 

'Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul- 

As  she  sang  the  appealing  words,  her  face  was 
lifted  up,  and  she  saw  none  of  us ;  but  she  must 


WATERLOO.     OUR  FIGHT— HIS  VICTORY  67 

have  seen  some  one,  for  the  cry  in  her  voice  could 
only  come  from  one  who  could  see  and  feel  help 
close  at  hand.  On  and  on  went  the  glorious 
voice,  searching  my  soul's  depths ;  but  when  she 
came  to  the  words — 

1  Thou,  O  Christ,  art  all  I  want,' 

she  stretched  up  her  arms — she  had  quite  for- 
gotten us,  her  voice  had  borne  her  to  other  worlds 
— and  sang  with  such  a  passion  of  abandon  that 
my  soul  was  ready  to  surrender  anything,  every- 
thing. 

Again  Mr.  Craig  wandered  on  through  his 
changing  chords  till  again  he  came  to  familiar 
ground,  and  the  voice  began,  in  low,  thrilling 
tones,  Bernard's  great  song  of  home — 

'Jerusalem  the  golden.' 

Every  word,  with  all  its  weight  of  meaning, 
came  winging  to  our  souls,  till  we  found  ourselves 
gazing  afar  into  those  stately  halls  of  Zion,  with 
their  daylight  serene  and  their  jubilant  throngs. 
When  the  singer  came  to  the  last  verse  there 
was  a  pause.  Again  Mr.  Craig  softly  played  the 
interlude,  but  still  there  was  no  voice.  I  looked 
up.  She  was  very  white,  and  her  eyes  were 


68  BLACK  ROCK 

glowing  with  their  deep  light.  Mr.  Craig  looked 
quickly  about,  saw  her,  stopped,  and  half  rose,  as 
if  to  go  to  her,  when,  in  a  voice  that  seemed  to 
come  from  a  far-off  land,  she  went  on — 

'  O  sweet  and  blessed  country  1 ' 

The  longing,  the  yearning,  in  the  second  '  O '  were 
indescribable.  Again  and  again,  as  she  held  that 
word,  and  then  dropped  down  with  the  cadence 
in  the  music,  my  heart  ached  for  I  knew  not 
what 

The  audience  were  sitting  as  in  a  trance.  The 
grimy  faces  of  the  miners,  for  they  never  get 
quite  white,  were  furrowed  with  the  tear-courses. 
Shaw,  by  this  time,  had  his  face  too  lifted  high, 
his  eyes  gazing  far  above  the  singer's  head,  and 
I  knew  by  the  rapture  in  his  face  that  he  was 
seeing,  as  she  saw,  the  thronging  stately  halls  and 
the  white-robed  conquerors.  He  had  felt,  and 
was  still  feeling,  all  the  stress  of  the  fight,  and  to 
him  the  vision  of  the  conquerors  in  their  glory 
was  soul-drawing  and  soul-stirring.  And  Nixon, 
too — he  had  his  vision  ;  but  what  he  saw  was  the 
face  of  the  singer,  with  the  shining  eyes,  and,  by 
the  look  of  him,  that  was  vision  enough. 


WATERLOO.     OUR  FIGHT— HIS  VICTORY  69 

Immediately  after  her  last  note  Mrs.  Mavor 
stretched  out  her  hands  to  her  little  girl,  who  was 
sitting  on  my  knee,  caught  her  up,  and,  holding 
her  close  to  her  breast,  walked  quickly  behind 
the  curtain.  Not  a  sound  followed  the  singing: 
no  one  moved  till  she  had  disappeared  ;  and  then 
Mr.  Craig  came  to  the  front,  and,  motioning  to 
me  to  follow  Mrs.  Mavor,  began  in  a  low,  distinct 
voice — 

'  Gentlemen,  it  was  not  easy  for  Mrs.  Mavor  to 
sing  for  us,  and  you  know  she  sang  because  she 
is  a  miner's  wife,  and  her  heart  is  with  the  miners. 
But  she  sang,  too,  because  her  heart  is  His  who 
came  to  earth  this  day  so  many  years  ago  to  save 
us  all;  and  she  would  make  you  love  Him  too. 
For  in  loving  Him  you  are  saved  from  all  base 
loves,  and  you  know  what  I  mean. 

'And  before  we  say  good-night,  men,  I  want 
to  know  if  the  time  is  not  come  when  all  of  you 
who  mean  to  be  better  than  you,  are  should  join 
in  putting  from  us  this  thing  that  has  brought 
sorrow  and  shame  to  us  and  to  those  we  love? 
You  know  what  I  mean.  Some  of  you  are 
strong;  will  you  stand  by  and  see  weaker  men 
robbed  of  the  money  they  save  for  those  far 


70  BLACK  ROCK 

away,  and  robbed  of  the  manhood  that  no  money 
can  buy  or  restore  ? 

1  Will  the  strong  men  help  ?  Shall  we  all  join 
hands  in  this  ?  What  do  you  say  ?  In  this  town 
we  have  often  seen  hell,  and  just  a  moment  ago 
we  were  all  looking  into  heaven,  "  the  sweet  and 
blessed  country."  O  men ! '  and  his  voice  rang 
in  an  agony  through  the  building — '  O  men ! 
which  shall  be  ours?  For  Heaven's  dear  sake, 
let  us  help  one  another  !  Who  will  ?  ' 

I  was  looking  out  through  a  slit  in  the  curtain. 
The  men,  already  wrought  to  intense  feeling  by 
the  music,  were  listening  with  set  faces  and 
gleaming  eyes,  and  as  at  the  appeal  '  Who  will  ? ' 
Craig  raised  high  his  hand,  Shaw,  Nixon,  and  a 
hundred  men  sprang  to  their  feet  and  held  high 
their  hands. 

I  have  witnessed  some  thrilling  scenes  in  my 
life,  but  never  anything  to  equal  that:  the  one 
man  on  the  platform  standing  at  full  height,  with 
his  hand  thrown  up  to  heaven,  and  the  hundred 
men  below  standing  straight,  with  arms  up  at 
full  length,  silent,  and  almost' motionless. 

For  a  moment  Craig  held  them  so ;  and  again 
his  voice  rang  out,  louder,  sterner  than  before — 


WATERLOO.    OUR  FIGHT— HIS  VICTORY  71 

'  All  who  mean  it,  say,  "  By  God's  help,  I  will." ' 

And  back  from  a  hundred  throats  came  deep 
and  strong  the  words, '  By  God's  help,  I  will.' 

At  this  point  Mrs.  Mavor,  whom  I  had  quite 
forgotten,  put  her  hand  on  my  arm.  'Go  and 
tell  him,'  she  panted,  '  I  want  them  to  come  on 
Thursday  night,  as  they  used  to  in  the  other  days 
— go — quick,'  and  she  almost  pushed  me  out.  I 
gave  Craig  her  message.  He  held  up  his  hand 
for  silence. 

'  Mrs.  Mavor  wishes  me  to  say  that  she  will  be 
glad  to  see  you  all,  as  in  the  old  days,  on  Thurs- 
day evening ;  and  I  can  think  of  no  better  place 
to  give  formal  expression  to  our  pledge  of  this 
night' 

There  was  a  shout  of  acceptance ;  and  then,  at 
some  one's  call,  the  long  pent-up  feelings  of  the 
crowd  found  vent  in  three  mighty  cheers  for  Mrs. 
Mavor. 

'  Now  for  our  old  hymn,'  called  out  Mr.  Craig, 
1  and  Mrs.  Mavor  will  lead  us.' 

He  sat  down  at  the  organ,  played  a  few  bars 
of  '  The  Sweet  By  and  By,'  and  then  Mrs.  Mavor 
began.  But  not  a  soul  joined  till  the  refrain  was 
reached,  and  then  they  sang  as  only  men  with 


7t  BLACK  ROCK 

their  hearts  on  fire  can  sing.  But  after  the  last 
refrain  Mr.  Craig  made  a  sign  to  Mrs.  Mavor, 
and  she  sang  alone,  slowly  and  softly,  and  with 
eyes  looking  far  away — 

1  In  the  sweet  by  and  by, 

We  shall  meet  on  that  beautiful  shore.1 

There  was  no  benediction — there  seemed  no 
need ;  and  the  men  went  quietly  out  But  over 
and  over  again  the  voice  kept  singing  in  my  ears 
and  in  my  heart, '  We  shall  meet  on  that  beautiful 
shore.'  And  after  the  sleigh- loads  of  men  had 
gone  and  left  the  street  empty,  as  I  stood  with 
Craig  in  the  radiant  moonlight  that  made  the 
great  mountains  about  come  near  us,  from  Sandy's 
sleigh  we  heard  in  the  distance  Baptiste's  French- 
English  song;  but  the  song  that  floated  down 
with  the  sound  of  the  bells  from  the  miners'  sleigh 
was — 

'  We  shall  meet  on  that  beautiful  shore.1 

1  Poor  old  Shaw  1  *  said  Craig  softly. 
When  the  last  sound  had  died  away  I  turned 
to  him  and  said — 

'  You  have  won  your  fight' 

'We  have  won  our  fight;   I  was  beaten/  he 


WATERLOO.     OUR  FIGHT— HIS  VICTORY  73 

replied  quickly,  offering  me  his  hand.  Then, 
taking  off  his  cap,  and  looking  up  beyond  the 
mountain-tops  and  the  silent  stars,  he  added 
softly,  '  Our  fight,  but  His  victory.' 

And,  thinking  it  all  over,  I  could  not  say  but 
perhaps  he  was  right 


MRS    MAYOR'S   STORY 


CHAPTER   IV 

MRS.  MAYOR'S  STORY 

THE  days  that  followed  the  Black  Rock  Christ- 
mas were  anxious  days  and  weary,  but  not  for 
the  brightest  of  my  life  would  I  change  them 
now ;  for,  as  after  the  burning  heat  or  rocking 
storm  the  dying  day  lies  beautiful  in  the  tender 
glow  of  the  evening,  so  these  days  have  lost  their 
weariness  and  lie  bathed  in  a  misty  glory.  The 
years  that  bring  us  many  ills,  and  that  pass  so 
stormfully  over  us,  bear  away  with  them  the  ugli- 
ness, the  weariness,  the  pain  that  are  theirs,  but 
the  beauty,  the  sweetness,  the  rest  they  leave 
untouched,  for  these  are  eternal.  As  the  moun- 
tains, that  near  at  hand  stand  jagged  and  scarred, 
in  the  far  distance  repose  in  their  soft  robes  of 
purple  haze,  so  the  rough  present  fades  into  the 
past,  soft  and  sweet  and  beautiful. 

I  have  set  myself  to  recall  the  pain  and  anxiety 

it 


78  BLACK  ROCK 

of  those  days  and  nights  when  we  waited  in  fear 
for  the  turn  of  the  fever,  but  I  can  only  think  of 
the  patience  and  gentleness  and  courage  of  her 
who  stood  beside  me,  bearing  more  than  half 
my  burden.  And  while  I  can  see  the  face  of 
Leslie  Graeme,  ghastly  or  flushed,  and  hear 
his  low  moaning  or  the  broken  words  of  his 
delirium,  I  think  chiefly  of  the  bright  face  bend- 
ing over  him,  and  of  the  cool,  firm,  swift-moving 
hands  that  soothed  and  smoothed  and  rested, 
and  the  voice,  like  the  soft  song  of  a  bird  in  the 
twilight,  that  never  failed  to  bring  peace. 

Mrs.  Mavor  and  I  were  much  together  during 
those  days.  I  made  my  home  in  Mr.  Craig's 
shack,  but  most  of  my  time  was  spent  beside 
my  friend.  We  did  not  see  much  of  Craig,  for 
he  was  heart-deep  with  the  miners,  laying  plans 
for  the  making  of  the  League  the  following 
Thursday;  and  though  he  shared  our  anxiety 
and  was  ever  ready  to  relieve  us,  his  thought 
and  his  talk  had  mostly  to  do  with  the  League. 

Mrs.  Mavor's  evenings  were  given  to  the  miners, 
but  her  afternoons  mostly  to  Graeme  and  to  me, 
and  then  it  was  I  saw  another  side  of  her  char- 
acter. We  would  sit  in  her  little  dining-room, 


MRS.  MAYOR'S  STORY  79 

where  the  pictures  on  the  walls,  the  quaint  old 
silver,  and  bits  of  curiously  cut  glass,  all  spoke 
of  other  and  different  days,  and  thence  we  would 
roam  the  world  of  literature  and  art.  Keenly 
sensitive  to  all  the  good  and  beautiful  in  these, 
she  had  her  favourites  among  the  masters,  for 
whom  she  was  ready  to  do  battle ;  and  when 
her  argument,  instinct  with  fancy  and  vivid  imagi- 
nation, failed,  she  swept  away  all  opposing  opinion 
with  the  swift  rush  of  her  enthusiasm ;  so  that, 
though  I  felt  she  was  beaten,  I  was  left  without 
words  to  reply.  Shakespeare  and  Tennyson  and 
Burns  she  loved,  but  not  Shelley,  nor  Byron,  nor 
even  Wordsworth.  Browning  she  knew  not,  and 
therefore  could  not  rank  him  with  her  noblest 
three ;  but  when  I  read  to  her  '  A  Death  in  the 
Desert,'  and  came  to  the  noble  words  at  the  end 
of  the  tale — 

'  For  all  was  as  I  say,  and  now  the  man 
Lies  as  he  once  lay,  breast  to  breast  with  God,1 

the  light  shone  in  her  eyes,  and  she  said, '  Oh,  that 
is  good  and  great ;  I  shall  get  much  out  of  him  ; 
I  had  always  feared  he  was  impossible.'  And 
1  Paracelsus,'  too,  stirred  her ;  but  when  I  recited 


So  BLACK  ROCK 

the  thrilling  fragment,  'Prospice,'  on  to  that 
closing  rapturous  cry — 

4  Then  a  light,  then  thy  breast, 
O  thou  soul  of  my  soul  I  I  shall  clasp  thee  again, 
And  with  God  be  the  rest  !'— 

the  red  colour  faded  from  her  cheek,  her  breath 
came  in  a  sob,  and  she  rose  quickly  and  passed 
out  without  a  word.  Ever  after,  Browning  was 
among  her  gods.  But  when  we  talked  of  music, 
she,  adoring  Wagner,  soared  upon  the  wings  of 
the  mighty  Tannhauser,  far  above,  into  regions 
unknown,  leaving  me  to  walk  soberly  with 
Beethoven  and  Mendelssohn.  Yet  with  all  our 
free,  frank  talk,  there  was  all  the  while  that  in  her 
gentle  courtesy  which  kept  me  from  venturing 
into  any  chamber  of  her  life  whose  door  she  did 
not  set  freely  open  to  me.  So  I  vexed  myself 
about  her,  and  when  Mr.  Craig  returned  the 
next  week  from  the  Landing  where  he  had  been 
for  some  days,  my  first  question  was — 

'Who  is  Mrs.  Mavor?  And  how  in  the  name 
of  all  that  is  wonderful  and  unlikely  does  she 
come  to  be  here  ?  And  why  does  she  stay  ? ' 

He  would  not  answer  then,;  whether  it  was 
that  his  mind  was  full  of  the  coming  struggle,  or 


MRS.  MAYOR'S  STORY  81 

whether  he  shrank  from  the  tale,  I  know  not; 
but  that  night,  when  we  sat  together  beside  his 
fire,  he  told  me  the  story,  while  I  smoked.  He 
was  worn  with  his  long,  hard  drive,  and  with 
the  burden  of  his  work,  but  as  he  went  on  with 
his  tale,  looking  into  the  fire  as  he  told  it,  he 
forgot  all  his  present  weariness  and  lived  again 
the  scenes  he  painted  for  me.  This  was  his 
story : — 

'  I  remember  well  my  first  sight  of  her,  as  she 
sprang  from  the  front  seat  of  the  stage  to  the 
ground,  hardly  touching  her  husband's  hand. 
She  looked  a  mere  girl.  Let's  see — five  years 
ago — she  couldn't  have  been  a  day  over  twenty- 
three.  She  looked  barely  twenty.  Her  swift 
glance  swept  over  the  group  of  miners  at  the 
hotel  door,  and  then  rested  on  the  mountains 
standing  in  all  their  autumn  glory. 

'I  was  proud  of  our  mountains  that  even- 
ing. Turning  to  her  husband,  she  exclaimed: 
"  O  Lewis,  are  they  not  grand  ?  and  lovely, 
too?"  Every  miner  lost  his  heart  then  and 
there,  but  all  waited  for  Abe  the  driver  to  give 
his  verdict  before  venturing  an  opinion.  Abe 
said  nothing  until  he  had  taken  a  preliminary 


8a  BLACK  ROCK 

drink,  and  then,  calling  all  hands  to  fill  up,  he 
lifted  his  glass  high,  and  said  solemnly — 

'"Boys,  here's  to  her." 

'Like  a  flash  every  glass  was  emptied,  and 
Abe  called  out,  "  Fill  her  up  again,  boys  1  My 
treat!" 

'  He  was  evidently  quite  worked  up.  Then 
he  began,  with  solemn  emphasis — 

' "  Boys,  you  hear  me !     She 's  a  No.  I,  triple  X, 

the  pure  quill  with  a  bead  on  it :  she 's  a , 

and  for  the  first  time  in  his  Black  Rock  history 
Abe  was  stuck  for  a  word.  Some  one  suggested 
"  angel." 

' "  Angel ! "  repeated  Abe,  with  infinite  con- 
tempt. "  Angel  be  blowed  "  (I  paraphrase  here) ; 
"  angels  ain't  in  the  same  month  with  her ;  I  'd 
like  to  see  any  blanked  angel  swing  my  team 
around  them  curves  without  a  shiver." 

'"Held  the  lines  herself,  Abe?"  asked  a 
miner. 

' "  That 's  what,"  said  Abe  ;  and  then  he  went 
off  into  a  fusilade  of  scientific  profanity,  ex- 
pressive of  his  esteem  for  the  girl  who  had  swung 
his  team  round  the  curves ;  and  the  miners 
nodded  to  each  other,  and  winked  their  entire 


MRS.  MAYOR'S  STORY  83 

approval  of  Abe's  performance,  for  this  was  his 
specialty. 

*  Very  decent  fellow,  Abe,  but  his  talk  wouldn't 
print.' 

Here  Craig  paused,  as  if  balancing  Abe's 
virtues  and  vices. 

1  Well,'  I  urged, '  who  is  she  ? ' 

'Oh  yes,'  he  said,  recalling  himself;  'she  is 
an  Edinburgh  young  lady — met  Lewis  Mavor,  a 
young  Scotch- English  man,  in  London — wealthy, 
good  family,  and  all  that,  but  fast,  and  going  to 
pieces  at  home.  His  people,  who  own  large 
shares  in  these  mines  here,  as  a  last  resort  sent 
him  out  here  to  reform.  Curiously  innocent  ideas 
those  old  country  people  have  of  the  reforming 
properties  of  this  atmosphere !  They  send  their 
young  bloods  here  to  reform.  Here!  in  this 
devil's  camp-ground,  where  a  man's  lust  is  his 
only  law,  and  when,  from  sheer  monotony,  a 
man  must  betake  himself  to  the  only  excitement 
of  the  place — that  offered  by  the  saloon.  Good 
people  in  the  east  hold  up  holy  hands  of  horror 
at  these  godless  miners  ;  but  I  tell  you  it 's  asking 
these  boys  a  good  deal  to  keep  straight  and  clean 
in  a  place  like  this.  I  take  my  excitement  in 


84  BLACK  ROCK 

fighting  the  devil  and  doing  my  work  generally, 
and  that  gives  me  enough  ;  but  these  poor  chaps — 
hard  worked,  homeless,  with  no  break  or  change — 
God  help  them  and  me ! '  and  his  voice  sank  low, 
1  Well/  I  persisted, '  did  Mavor  reform  ? ' 
Again  he  roused  himself.  '  Reform  ?  Not 
exactly.  In  six  months  he  had  broken  through 
all  restraint;  and,  mind  you,  not  the  miners' 
fault — not  a  miner  helped  him  down.  It  was  a 
sight  to  make  angels  weep  when  Mrs.  Mavor 
would  come  to  the  saloon  door  for  her  husband. 
Every  miner  would  vanish ;  they  could  not  look 
upon  her  shame,  and  they  would  send  Mavor 
forth  in  the  charge  of  Billy  Breen,  a  queer  little 
chap,  who  had  belonged  to  the  Mavors  in  some 
way  in  the  old  country,  and  between  them  they 
would  get  him  home.  How  she  stood  it  puzzles 
me  to  this  day ;  but  she  never  made  any  sign,  and 
her  courage  never  failed.  It  was  always  a  bright, 
brave,  proud  face  she  held  up  to  the  world — 
except  in  church  ;  there  it  was  different  I  used 
to  preach  my  sermons,  I  believe,  mostly  for  her — • 
but  never  so  that  she  could  suspect — as  bravely 
and  as  cheerily  as  I  could.  And  as  she  listened, 
and  especially  as  she  sang — how  she  used  to  sing 


MRS.  MAYOR'S  STORY  85 

in  those  days ! — there  was  no  touch  of  pride  in 
her  face,  though  the  courage  never  died  out,  but 
appeal,  appeal !  I  could  have  cursed  aloud  the 
cause  of  her  misery,  or  wept  for  the  pity  of  it. 
Before  her  baby  was  born  he  seemed  to  pull 
himself  together,  for  he  was  quite  mad  about  her, 
and  from  the  day  the  baby  came — talk  about 
miracles  ! — from  that  day  he  never  drank  a  drop. 
She  gave  the  baby  over  to  him,  and  the  baby 
simply  absorbed  him. 

'He  was  a  new  man.  He  could  not  drink 
whisky  and  kiss  his  baby.  And  the  miners — it 
was  really  absurd  if  it  were  not  so  pathetic.  It 
was  the  first  baby  in  Black  Rock,  and  they  used 
to  crowd  Mavor's  shop  and  peep  into  the  room 
at  the  back  of  it — I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  when 
he  lost  his  position  as  manager  he  opened  a 
hardware  shop,  for  his  people  chucked  him,  and 
he  was  too  proud  to  write  home  for  money — just 
for  a  chance  to  be  asked  in  to  see  the  baby.  I 
came  upon  Nixon  standing  at  the  back  of  the 
shop  after  he  had  seen  the  baby  for  the  first  time, 
sobbing  hard,  and  to  my  question  he  replied : 
"It's  just  like  my  own."  You  can't  understand 
this.  But  to  men  who  have  lived  so  long  in  the 


86  BLACK  ROCK 

mountains  that  they  have  forgotten  what  a  baby 
looks  like,  who  have  had  experience  of  humanity 
only  in  its  roughest,  foulest  form,  this  little  mite, 
sweet  and  clean,  was  like  an  angel  fresh  from 
heaven,  the  one  link  in  all  that  black  camp  that 
bound  them  to  what  was  purest  and  best  in  their 
past 

'  And  to  see  the  mother  and  her  baby  handle 
the  miners ! 

4  Oh,  it  was  all  beautiful  beyond  words !  I  shall 
never  forget  the  shock  I  got  one  night  when 
I  found  "Old  Ricketts"  nursing  the  baby.  A 
drunken  old  beast  he  was ;  but  there  he  was 
sitting,  sober  enough,  making  extraordinary  faces 
at  the  baby,  who  was  grabbing  at  his  nose  and 
whiskers  and  cooing  in  blissful  delight.  Poor 
"  Old  Ricketts  "  looked  as  if  he  had  been  caught 
stealing,  and  muttering  something  about  having 
to  go.  gazed  wildly  round  for  some  place  in  which 
to  lay  the  baby,  when  in  came  the  mother,  saying 
in  her  own  sweet,  frank  way :  "  O  Mr.  Ricketts  " 
(she  didn't  find  out  till  afterwards  his  name  was 
Shaw),  "  would  you  mind  keeping  her  just  a  little 
longer? — I  shall  be  back  in  a  few  minutes."  And 
"  Old  Ricketts  "  guessed  he  could  wait 


MRS.  MAYOR'S  STORY  87 

1  But  in  six  months  mother  and  baby,  between 
them,  transformed  "  Old  Ricketts  "  into  Mr.  Shaw, 
fire-boss  of  the  mines.  And  then  in  the  evenings, 
when  she  would  be  singing  her  baby  to  sleep,  the 
little  shop  would  be  full  of  miners,  listening  in 
dead  silence  to  the  baby-songs,  and  the  English 
songs,  and  the  Scotch  songs  she  poured  forth 
without  stint,  for  she  sang  more  for  them  than 
for  her  baby.  No  wonder  they  adored  her. 
She  was  so  bright,  so  gay,  she  brought  light  with 
her  when  she  went  into  the  camp,  into  the  pits — 
for  she  went  down  to  see  the  men  work — or  into 
a  sick  miner's  shack ;  and  many  a  man,  lonely 
and  sick  for  home  or  wife,  or  baby  or  mother, 
found  in  that  back  room  cheer  and  comfort  and 
courage,  and  to  many  a  poor  broken  wretch  that 
room  became,  as  one  miner  put  it,  "  the  anteroom 
to  heaven." ' 

Mr.  Craig  paused,  and  I  waited.  Then  he  went 
on  slowly — 

I  For  a  year  and  a  half  that  was  the  happiest 
home  in  all  the  world,  till  one  day ' 

He  put  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  shuddered. 

I 1  don't  think   I   can   ever  forget  the  awful 
horror  of  that  bright  fall  afternoon,  when  "OJ-J 


88  BLACK  ROCK 

Ricketts"  came  breathless  to  me  and  gasped, 
"  Come !  for  the  dear  Lord's  sake,"  and  I  rushed 
after  him.  At  the  mouth  of  the  shaft  lay  three 
men  dead.  One  was  Lewis  Mavor.  He  had 
gone  down  to  superintend  the  running  of  a  new 
drift ;  the  two  men,  half  drunk  with  Slavin's 
whisky,  set  off  a  shot  prematurely,  to  their 
own  and  Mayor's  destruction.  They  were  badly 
burned,  but  his  face  was  untouched.  A  miner 
was  sponging  off  the  bloody  froth  oozing  from 
his  lips.  The  others  were  standing  about  waiting 
for  me  to  speak.  But  I  could  find  no  word,  for 
my  heart  was  sick,  thinking,  as  they  were,  of  the 
young  mother  and  her  baby  waiting  at  home. 
So  I  stood,  looking  stupidly  from  one  to  the 
other,  trying  to  find  some  reason — coward  that  I 
was — why  another  should  bear  the  news  rather 
than  I.  And  while  we  stood  there,  looking  at 
one  another  in  fear,  there  broke  upon  us  the 
sound  of  a  voice  mounting  high  above  the  birch 
tops,  singing — 

•"Will  ye  no'  come  back  again? 
Will  ye  no'  come  back  again  ? 
Better  lo'ed  ye  canna  be, 
Will  ye  no'  come  back  again  ?* 


MRS.  MAYOR'S  STORY  89 

1 A  strange  terror  seized  us.  Instinctively  the 
men  closed  up  in  front  of  the  body,  and  stood  in 
silence.  Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  clear,  sweet 
voice,  ringing  like  a  silver  bell  up  the  steep — 

* "  Sweet  the  lav*rock's  note  and  lang, 

Liltin'  wildly  up  the  glen, 
But  aye  tae  me  he  sings  ae  sang, 
Will  ye  no'  come  back  again  ?  " 

'  Before  the  verse  was  finished  "  Old  Ricketts  " 
had  dropped  on  his  knees,  sobbing  out  brokenly, 
"  O  God !  O  God !  have  pity,  have  pity,  have 
pity ! " — and  every  man  took  off  his  hat  And 
still  the  voice  came  nearer,  singing  so  brightly 
the  refrain, 

' M  Will  ye  no*  come  back  again  ?  " 

'  It  became  unbearable.  "  Old  Ricketts  "  sprang 
suddenly  to  his  feet,  and,  gripping  me  by  the 
arm,  said  piteously,  "  Oh,  go  to  her !  for  Heaven's 
sake,  go  to  her ! "  I  next  remember  standing  in 
her  path  and  seeing  her  holding  out  her  hands 
full  of  red  lilies,  crying  out,  "Are  they  not 
lovely  ?  Lewis  is  so  fond  of  them  ! "  With  the 
promise  of  much  finer  ones  I  turned  her  down 
a  path  toward  the  river,  talking  I  know  not  what 


90  BLACK  ROCK 

folly,  till  her  great  eyes  grew  grave,  then  anxious, 
and  my  tongue  stammered  and  became  silent 
Then,  laying  her  hand  upon  my  arm,  she  said 
with  gentle  sweetness,  "Tell  me  your  trouble, 
Mr.  Craig,"  and  I  knew  my  agony  had  come, 
and  I  burst  out,  "Oh,  if  it  were  only  mine!" 
She  turned  quite  white,  and  with  her  deep  eyes — 
you've  noticed  her  eyes — drawing  the  truth  out 
of  mine,  she  said,  "  Is  it  mine,  Mr.  Craig,  and  my 
baby's  ?  "  I  waited,  thinking  with  what  words  to 
begin.  She  put  one  hand  to  her  heart,  and  with 
the  other  caught  a  little  poplar-tree  that  shivered 
under  her  grasp,  and  said  with  white  lips,  but 
even  more  gently,  M  Tell  me."  I  wondered  at  my 
voice  being  so  steady  as  I  said,  "  Mrs.  Mavor, 
God  will  help  you  and  your  baby.  There  has 
been  an  accident — and  it  is  all  over." 

'  She  was  a  miner's  wife,  and  there  was  no  need 
for  more.  I  could  see  the  pattern  of  the  sunlight 
falling  through  the  trees  upon  the  grass.  I  could 
hear  the  murmur  of  the  river,  and  the  cry  of  the 
cat-bird  in  the  bushes,  but  we  seemed  to  be  in  a 
strange  and  unreal  world.  Suddenly  she  stretched 
out  her  hands  to  me,  and  with  a  little  moan  said, 
"Take  me  to  him." 


MRS.  MAYOR'S  STORY  91 

'"Sit  down  for  a  moment  or  two,"  I  entreated. 

' "  No,  no !  I  am  quite  ready.  See,"  she  added 
quietly,  "  I  am  quite  strong." 

4 1  set  off  by  a  short  cut  leading  to  her  home, 
hoping  the  men  would  be  there  before  us;  but, 
passing  me,  she  walked  swiftly  through  the  trees, 
and  I  followed  in  fear.  As  we  came  near  the 
main  path  I  heard  the  sound  of  feet,  and  I  tried 
to  stop  her,  but  she,  too,  had  heard  and  knew 
"  Oh,  let  me  go ! "  she  said  piteously  ;  "  you  need 
not  fear."  And  I  had  not  the  heart  to  stop  her. 
In  a  little  opening  among  the  pines  we  met  the 
bearers.  When  the  men  saw  her,  they  laid  their 
burden  gently  down  upon  the  carpet  of  yellow 
pine-needles,  and  then,  for  they  had  the  hearts 
of  true  men  in  them,  they  went  away  into  the 
bushes  and  left  her  alone  with  her  dead.  She 
went  swiftly  to  his  side,  making  no  cry,  but 
kneeling  beside  him  she  stroked  his  face  and 
hands,  and  touched  his  curls  with  her  fingers, 
murmuring  all  the  time  soft  words  of  love.  "  O 
my  darling,  my  bonnie,  bonnie  darling,  speak  to 
me!  Will  ye  not  speak  to  me  just  one  little 
word  ?  O  my  love,  my  love,  my  heart's  love ! 
Listen,  my  darling!"  And  she  put  her  lips  to 


92  BLACK  ROCK 

his  ear,  whispering,  and  then  the  awful  stillness. 
Suddenly  she  lifted  her  head  and  scanned  his 
face,  and  then,  glancing  round  with  a  wild 
surprise  in  her  eyes,  she  cried,  "  He  will  not 
speak  to  me !  Oh,  he  will  not  speak  to  me ! "  I 
signed  to  the  men,  and  as  they  came  forward 
I  went  to  her  and  took  her  hands. 

'  "Oh,"  she  said  with  a  wail  in  her  voice;  "  he  will 
not  speak  to  me."  The  men  were  sobbing  aloud. 
She  looked  at  them  with  wide-open  eyes  of 
wonder.  "Why  are  they  weeping?  Will  he 
never  speak  to  me  again  ?  Tell  me,"  she  insisted 
gently.  The  words  were  running  through  my 
head — 

1 "  There 's  a  land  that  is  fairer  than  day," 
and  I  said  them  over  to  her,  holding  her  hands 
firmly  in  mine.     She  gazed  at  me  as  if  in  a  dream, 
and  the  light  slowly  faded  from  her  eyes  as  she 
said,  tearing  her  hands  from  mine  and  waving 
them  towards  the  mountains  and  the  woods — 
1 "  But  never  more  here  ?     Never  more  here  ?  " 
'  I  believe  in  heaven  and  the  other  life,  but  I 
confess  that  for  a  moment  it  all  seemed  shadowy 
beside  the  reality  of  this  warm,  bright  world,  full 
of  life  and  love.     She  was  very  ill  for  two  nights^ 


MRS.  MAYOR'S  STORY  93 

and  when  the  coffin  was  closed  a  new  baby  lay 
in  the  father's  arms. 

1  She  slowly  came  back  to  life,  but  there  were 
no  more  songs.  The  miners  still  come  about  her 
shop,  and  talk  to  her  baby,  and  bring  her  their 
sorrows  and  troubles ;  but  though  she  is  always 
gentle,  almost  tender,  with  them,  no  man  ever 
says  "  Sing."  And  that  is  why  I  am  glad  she 
sang  last  week ;  it  will  be  good  for  her  and  good 
for  them.' 

'  Why  does  she  stay  ? '  I  asked. 

'  Mavor's  people  wanted  her  to  go  to  them/  he 
replied. 

1  They  have  money — she  told  me  about  it,  but 
her  heart  is  in  the  grave  up  there  under  the  pines  ; 
and  besides,  she  hopes  to  do  something  for  the 
miners,  and  she  will  not  leave  them.' 

I  am  afraid  I  snorted  a  little  impatiently  as  I 
said, '  Nonsense !  why,  with  her  face,  and  manner, 
and  voice  she  could  be  anything  she  liked  in 
Edinburgh  or  in  London.' 

'And  why  Edinburgh  or  London?'  he  asked 
coolly. 

'Why?'  I  repeated  a  little  hotly.  'You  think 
this  is  better  ? ' 


94  BLACK  ROCK 

'Nazareth  was  good  enough  for  the  Lord  of 
glory/  he  answered,  with  a  smile  none  too  bright ; 
but  it  drew  my  heart  to  him,  and  my  heat  was 
gone. 

'  How  long  will  she  stay  ? '  I  asked. 

'  Till  her  work  is  done,'  he  replied. 

'And  when  will  that  be?'  I  asked  impatiently. 

'  When  God  chooses,'  he  answered  gravely ; 
'and  don't  you  ever  think  but  that  it  is  worth 
while.  One  value  of  work  is  not  that  crowds 
stare  at  it.  Read  history,  man ! ' 

He  rose  abruptly  and  began  to  walk  about. 
1  And  don't  miss  the  whole  meaning  of  the  Life 
that  lies  at  the  foundation  of  your  religion.  Yes,' 
he  added  to  himself, '  the  work  is  worth  doing — 
worth  even  her  doing.' 

I  could  not  think  so  then,  but  the  light  of  the 
after  years  proved  him  wiser  than  I.  A  man,  to 
see  far,  must  climb  to  some  height,  and  I  was  too 
much  upon  the  plain  in  those  days  to  catch  even 
a  glimpse  of  distant  sunlit  uplands  of  triumphant 
achievement  that  lie  beyond  the  valley  of  self- 
sacrifice; 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE 


CHAPTER   V 

THE  MAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE 

THURSDAY  morning  found  Craig  anxious,  even 
gloomy,  but  with  fight  in  every  line  of  his  face. 
I  tried  to  cheer  him  in  my  clumsy  way  by  chaff- 
ing him  about  his  League.  But  he  did  not  blaze 
up  as  he  often  did.  It  was  a  thing  too  near  his 
heart  for  that.  He  only  shrank  a  little  from  my 
stupid  chaff  and  said — 

'  Don't,  old  chap ;  this  is  a  good  deal  to  me. 
I  Ve  tried  for  two  years  to  get  this,  and  if  it  falls 
through  now,  I  shall  find  it  hard  to  bear.' 

Then  I  repented  my  light  words  and  said, 
'  Why !  the  thing  will  go  sure  enough :  after  that 
scene  in  the  church  they  won't  go  back.' 

'  Poor  fellows ! '  he  said  as  if  to  himself;  '  whisky 
is  about  the  only  excitement  they  have,  and  they 
find  it  pretty  tough  to  give  it  up ;  and  a  lot  of 
the  men  are  against  the  total  abstinence  idea. 
It  seems  rot  to  them.' 


98  BLACK  ROCK 

'  It  is  pretty  steep/  I  said.  '  Can't  you  do 
without  it  ? ' 

'  No ;  I  fear  not.  There  is  nothing  else  for  it 
Some  of  them  talk  of  compromise.  They  want 
to  quit  the  saloon  and  drink  quietly  in  their 
shacks.  The  moderate  drinker  may  have  his 
place  in  other  countries,  though  I  can't  see  it.  I 
haven't  thought  that  out,  but  here  the  only  safe 
man  is-  the  man  who  quits  it  dead  and  fights  it 
straight;  anything  else  is  sheerest  humbug  and 
nonsense.' 

I  had  not  gone  in  much  for  total  abstinence  up 
to  this  time,  chiefly  because  its  advocates  seemed 
for  the  most  part  to  be  somewhat  ill-balanced  ; 
but  as  I  listened  to  Craig,  I  began  to  feel  that 
perhaps  there  was  a  total  abstinence  side  to  the 
temperance  question  ;  and  as  to  Black  Rock,  I 
could  see  how  it  must  be  one  thing  or  the 
other. 

We  found  Mrs.  Mavor  brave  and  bright.  She 
shared  Mr.  Craig's  anxiety  but  not  his  gloom. 
Her  courage  was  of  that  serene  kind  that  refuses 
to  believe  defeat  possible,  and  lifts  the  spirit  into 
the  triumph  of  final  victory.  Through  the  past 
week  she  had  been  carefully  disposing  her  forces 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE         99 

and  winning  recruits.  And  yet  she  never  seemed 
to  urge  or  persuade  the  men  ;  but  as  evening  after 
evening  the  miners  dropped  into  the  cosy  room 
downstairs,  with  her  talk  and  her  songs  she 
charmed  them  till  they  were  wholly  hers.  She 
took  for  granted  their  loyalty,  trusted  them 
utterly,  and  so  made  it  difficult  for  them  to  be 
other  than  true  men. 

That  night  Mrs.  Mavor's  large  storeroom, 
which  had  been  fitted  up  with  seats,  was 
crowded  with  miners  when  Mr.  Craig  and  I 
entered. 

After  a  glance  over  the  crowd,  Craig  said, 
1  There 's  the  manager ;  that  means  war.'  And  I 
saw  a  tall  man,  very  fair,  whose  chin  fell  away  to 
the  vanishing  point,  and  whose  hair  was  parted 
in  the  middle,  talking  to  Mrs.  Mavor.  She  was 
dressed  in  some  rich  soft  stuff  that  became  her 
well.  She  was  looking  beautiful  as  ever,  but 
there  was  something  quite  new  in  her  manner. 
Her  air  of  good-fellowship  was  gone,  and  she  was 
the  high-bred  lady,  whose  gentle  dignity  and 
sweet  grace,  while  very  winning,  made  familiarity 
impossible. 

The  manager  was  doing  his  best,  and  appeared 


ioo  BLACK  ROCK 

to  be  well  pleased  with  himself.  '  She  '11  get  him 
if  any  one  can.  I  failed,'  said  Craig. 

I  stood  looking  at  the  men,  and  a  fine  lot  of 
fellows  they  were.  Free,  easy,  bold  in  their 
bearing,  they  gave  no  sign  of  rudeness ;  and, 
from  their  frequent  glances  toward  Mrs.  Mavor, 
I  could  see  they  were  always  conscious  of  her 
presence.  No  men  are  so  truly  gentle  as  are  the 
Westerners  in  the  presence  of  a  good  woman. 
They  were  evidently  of  all  classes  and  ranks 
originally,  but  now,  and  in  this  country  of  real 
measurements,  they  ranked  simply  according  to 
the  '  man '  in  them.  '  See  that  handsome  young 
chap  of  dissipated  appearance  ? '  said  Craig ; 
'that's  Vernon  Winton,  an  Oxford  graduate, 
blue  blood,  awfully  plucky,  but  quite  gone. 
When  he  gets  repentant,  instead  of  shooting  him- 
self, he  comes  to  Mrs.  Mavor.  Fact' 

'  From  Oxford  University  to  Black  Rock  mining 
camp  is  something  of  a  step,'  I  replied. 

'  That  queer- looking  little  chap  in  the  corner 
is  Billy  Breen.  How  in  the  world  has  he  got 
here  ? '  went  on  Mr.  Craig.  Queer-looking  he 
was.  A  little  man,  with  a  small  head  set  on 
heavy  square  shoulders,  long  arms,  and  huge 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE       101 

hands  that  sprawled  all  over  his  body ;  altogether 
a  most  ungainly  specimen  of  humanity. 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Mavor  had  finished  with  the 
manager,  and  was  in  the  centre  of  a  group  of 
miners.  Her  grand  air  was  all  gone,  and  she 
was  their  comrade,  their  friend,  one  of  themselves. 
Nor  did  she  assume  the  rdle  of  entertainer,  but 
rather  did  she,  with  half-shy  air,  cast  herself  upon 
their  chivalry,  and  they  were  too  truly  gentlemen 
to  fail  her.  It  is  hard  to  make  Western  men,  and 
especially  old-timers,  talk.  But  this  gift  was 
hers,  and  it  stirred  my  admiration  to  see  her 
draw  on  a  grizzled  veteran  to  tell  how,  twenty 
years  ago,  he  had  crossed  the  Great  Divide,  and 
had  seen  and  done  what  no  longer  fell  to  men 
to  see  or  do  in  these  new  days.  And  so  she  won 
the  old-timer.  But  it  was  beautiful  to  see  the 
innocent  guile  with  which  she  caught  Billy  Breen, 
and  drew  him  to  her  corner  near  the  organ. 
What  she  was  saying  I  knew  not,  but  poor  Billy 
was  protesting,  waving  his  big  hands. 

The  meeting  came  to  order,  with  Shaw  in  the 
chair,  and  the  handsome  young  Oxford  man 
secretary.  Shaw  stated  the  object  of  the  meeting 
in  a  few  halting  words ;  but  when  he  came  to 


zoa  BLACK  ROCK 

speak  of  the  pleasure  he  and  all  felt  in  being 
together  in  that  room,  his  words  flowed  in  a 
stream,  warm  and  full.  Then  there  was  a  pause, 
and  Mr.  Craig  was  called.  But  he  knew  better 
than  to  speak  at  that  point  Finally  Nixon  rose 
hesitatingly;  but,  as  he  caught  a  bright  smile 
from  Mrs.  Mavor,  he  straightened  himself  as  if 
for  a  fight 

'  I  ain't  no  good  at  makin'  speeches,'  he  began  ; 
'but  it  ain't  speeches  we  want.  We've  got  some- 
thin'  to  do,  and  what  we  want  to  know  is  how  to 
do  it  And  to  be  right  plain,  we  want  to  know 
how  to  drive  this  cursed  whisky  out  of  Black 
Rock.  You  all  know  what  it 's  doing  for  us — at 
least  for  some  of  us.  And  it's  time  to  stop  it 
now,  or  for  some  of  us  it  '11  mighty  soon  be  too 
late.  And  the  only  way  to  stop  its  work  is  to 
quit  drinkin'  it  and  help  others  to  quit  I  heat 
some  talk  of  a  League,  and  what  I  say  is,  if  it 's 
a  League  out  and  out  against  whisky,  a  Total 
Abstinence  right  to  the  ground,  then  I  'm  with  it 
— that's  my  talk — I  move  we  make  that  kind 
of  League.' 

Nixon  sat  down  amid  cheers  and  a  chorus  of 
remarks, '  Good  man  ! '  '  That 's  the  talk  I '  '  Stay 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE       103 

with  it!'  but  he  waited  for  the  smile  and  the 
glance  that  came  to  him  from  the  beautiful  face 
in  the  corner,  and  with  that  he  seemed  content. 

Again  there  was  silence.  Then  the  secretary 
rose  with  a  slight  flush  upon  his  handsome, 
delicate  face,  and  seconded  the  motion.  If  they 
would  pardon  a  personal  reference  he  would  give 
them  his  reasons.  He  had  come  to  this  country 
to  make  his  fortune;  now  he  was  anxious  to 
make  enough  to  enable  him  to  go  home  with 
some  degree  of  honour.  His  home  held  every- 
thing that  was  dear  to  him.  Between  him  and 
that  home,  between  him  and  all  that  was  good 
and  beautiful  and  honourable,  stood  whisky.  '  I 
am  ashamed  to  confess/  and  the  flush  deepened 
on  his  cheek,  and  his  lips  grew  thinner,  'that  I 
feel  the  need  of  some  such  league.'  His  hand- 
some face,  his  perfect  style  of  address,  learned 
possibly  in  the  'Union,'  but,  more  than  all,  his 
show  of  nerve — for  these  men  knew  how  to  value 
that — made  a  strong  impression  on  his  audience ; 
but  there  were  no  following  cheers. 

Mr.  Craig  appeared  hopeful ;  but  on  Mrs.  Mavor's 
face  there  was  a  look  of  wistful,  tender  pity,  for 
she  knew  how  much  the  words  had  cost  the  lad. 


104  BLACK  ROCK 

Then  up  rose  a  sturdy,  hard-featured  man,  with 
a  burr  in  his  voice  that  proclaimed  his  birth.  His 
name  was  George  Crawford,  I  afterwards  learned, 
but  every  one  called  him  Geordie.  He  was  a 
character  in  his  way,  fond  of  his  glass  ;  but  though 
he  was  never  known  to  refuse  a  drink,  he  was 
never  known  to  be  drunk.  He  took  his  drink, 
for  the  most  part,  with  bread  and  cheese  in  his 
own  shack,  or  with  a  friend  or  two  in  a  sober, 
respectable  way,  but  never  could  be  induced  to 
join  the  wild  carousals  in  Slavin's  saloon.  He 
made  the  highest  wages,  but  was  far  too  true  a 
Scot  to  spend  his  money  recklessly.  Every  one 
waited  eagerly  to  hear  Geordie's  mind.  He  spoke 
solemnly,  as  befitted  a  Scotsman  expressing  a 
deliberate  opinion,  and  carefully,  as  if  choosing 
his  best  English,  for  when  Geordie  became  excited 
no  one  in  Black  Rock  could  understand  him. 

'  Maister  Chairman,'  said  Geordie,  '  I  'm  aye  for 
temperance  in  a'  things.'  There  was  a  shout  of 
laughter,  at  which  Geordie  gazed  round  in  pained 
surprise.  '  I  '11  no*  deny,'  he  went  on  in  an 
explanatory  tone,  '  that  I  tak  ma  mornin',  an' 
maybe  a  nip  at  noon,  an'  a  wee  drap  aifter  wark 
in  the  evenin',  an'  whiles  a  sip  o'  toddy  wi'  a  freen 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE       105 

thae  cauld  nichts.  But  I  'm  no'  a  guzzler,  an'  I 
dinna  gang  in  wi'  thae  loons  flingin'  aboot  guid 
money.' 

'  And  that 's  thrue  for  you,  me  bye,'  interrupted 
a  rich  Irish  brogue,  to  the  delight  of  the  crowd  and 
the  amazement  of  Geordie,  who  went  calmly  on — 

'  An'  I  canna  bide  yon  saloon  whaur  they  sell 
sic  awfu'-like  stuff — it's  mair  like  lye  nor  guid 
whisky, — and  whaur  ye  're  never  sure  o'  yer  richt 
change.  It 's  an  awfu'-like  place ;  man  ! ' — and 
Geordie  began  to  warm  up — '  ye  can  juist  smell 
the  sulphur  when  ye  gang  in.  But  I  dinna  care 
aboot  thae  Temperance  Soceeities,  wi'  their 
pledges  an'  havers ;  an'  I  canna  see  what  hairm 
can  come  till  a  man  by  takin'  a  bottle  o'  guid 
Glenlivet  hame  wi'  him.  I  canna  bide  thae  tee- 
total buddies.' 

Geordie's  speech  was  followed  by  loud  applause, 
partly  appreciative  of  Geordie  himself,  but  largely 
sympathetic  with  his  position. 

Two  or  three  men  followed  in  the  same  strain, 
advocating  a  league  for  mutual  improvement  and 
social  purposes,  but  without  the  teetotal  pledge; 
they  were  against  the  saloon,  but  didn't  see  why 
they  should  not  take  a  drink  now  and  then. 


io6  BLACK  ROCK 

Finally  the  manager  rose  to  support  his '  friend, 
Mistah — ah — Cwafoad,'  ridiculing  the  idea  of  a 
total  abstinence  pledge  as  fanatical  and  indeed 
'absuad.'  He  was  opposed  to  the  saloon,  and 
would  like  to  see  a  club  formed,  with  a  com- 
fortable club-room,  books,  magazines,  pictures, 
games,  anything,  '  dontcheknow,  to  make  the 
time  pass  pleasantly ' ;  but  it  was  '  absuad  to 
ask  men  to  abstain  fwom  a  pwopah  use  of — aw 
— nouwishing  dvvinks,'  because  some  men  made 
beasts  of  themselves.  He  concluded  by  offering 
$50.00  towards  the  support  of  such  a  club. 

The  current  of  feeling  was  setting  strongly 
against  the  total  abstinence  idea,  and  Craig's 
face  was  hard  and  his  eyes  gleamed  like  coals. 
Then  he  did  a  bit  of  generalship.  He  proposed 
that  since  they  had  the  two  plans  clearly  before 
them  they  should  take  a  few  minutes'  intermission 
in  which  to  make  up  their  minds,  and  he  was 
sure  they  would  be  glad  to  have  Mrs.  Mavor 
sing.  In  the  interval  the  men  talked  in  groups, 
eagerly,  even  fiercely,  hampered  seriously  in  the 
forceful  expression  of  their  opinion  by  the  pres- 
ence of  Mrs.  Mavor,  who  glided  from  group  to 
group,  dropping  a  word  here  and  a  smile  there. 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE       107 

She  reminded  me  of  a  general  riding  along  the 
ranks,  bracing  his  men  for  the  coming  battle. 
She  paused  beside  Geordie,  spoke  earnestly  for 
a  few  moments,  while  Geordie  gazed  solemnly 
at  her,  and  then  she  came  back  to  Billy  in  the 
corner  near  me.  What  she  was  saying  I  could 
not  hear,  but  poor  Billy  was  protesting,  spreading 
his  hands  out  aimlessly  before  him,  but  gazing  at 
her  the  while  in  dumb  admiration.  Then  she  came 
to  me.  '  Poor  Billy,  he  was  good  to  my  husband,' 
she  said  softly,  *  and  he  has  a  good  heart.' 

'  He 's  not  much  to  look  at,'  I  could  not  help 
saying. 

'The  oyster  hides  its  pearl/  she  answered,  a 
little  reproachfully. 

'The  shell  is  apparent  enough,'  I  replied,  for 
the  mischief  was  in  me. 

'Ah  yes,'  she  replied  softly,  'but  it  is  the 
pearl  we  love.' 

I  moved  over  beside  Billy,  whose  eyes  were 
following  Mrs.  Mavor  as  she  went  to  speak  to 
Mr.  Craig.  'Well,'  I  said  ;  'you  all  seem  to  have 
a  high  opinion  of  her.' 

'An  'igh  hopinion,'  he  replied,  in  deep  scorn. 
'  An  'igh  hopinion,  you  calls  it' 


io8  BLACK  ROCK 

1  What  would  you  call  it  ? '  I  asked,  wishing  to 
draw  him  out 

'  Oi  don't  call  it  nothink,'  he  replied,  spreading 
out  his  rough  hands. 

1  She  seems  very  nice,'  I  said  indifferently. 

He  drew  his  eyes  away  from  Mrs.  Mavor,  and 
gave  attention  to  me  for  the  first  time. 

'Nice!'  he  repeated  with  fine  contempt;  and 
then  he  added  impressively, '  Them  as  don't  know 
shouldn't  say  nothink.' 

'You  are  right/  I  answered  earnestly,  'and  I 
am  quite  of  your  opinion.' 

He  gave  me  a  quick  glance  out  of  his  little, 
deep-set,  dark-blue  eyes,  and  opened  his  heart 
to  me.  He  told  me,  in  his  quaint  speech,  how 
again  and  again  she  had  taken  him  in  and  nursed 
him,  and  encouraged  him,  and  sent  him  out  with 
a  new  heart  for  his  battle,  until,  for  very  shame's 
sake  at  his  own  miserable  weakness,  he  had  kept 
out  of  her  way  for  many  months,  going  steadily 
down. 

'  Now,  oi  hain't  got  no  grip ;  but  when  she  says 
to  me  to-night,  says  she,  "Oh,  Billy" — she  calls 
me  Billy  to  myself  (this  with  a  touch  of  pride) 
— '"oh,  Billy,"  says  she,  "we  must  'ave  a  total 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE       109 

habstinence  league  to-night,  and  oi  want  you  to 
'elp ! "  and  she  keeps  a-lookin'  at  me  with  those 
heyes  o'  hern  till,  if  you  believe  me,  sir/  lower- 
ing his  voice  to  an  emphatic  whisper,  'though 
oi  knowed  oi  couldn't  'elp  none,  afore  oi  knowed 
oi  promised  'er  oi  would.  It's  'er  heyes.  When 
them  heyes  says  "do,"  hup  you  steps  and 
"does."' 

I  remembered  my  first  look  into  her  eyes, 
and  I  could  quite  understand  Billy's  submission. 
Just  as  she  began  to  sing  I  went  over  to  Geordie 
and  took  my  seat  beside  him.  She  began  with 
an  English  slumber  song,  '  Sleep,  Baby,  Sleep' — 
one  of  Barry  Cornwall's,  I  think, — and  then  sang 
a  love-song  with  the  refrain, '  Love  once  again ' ; 
but  no  thrills  came  to  me,  and  I  began  to  wonder 
if  her  spell  over  me  was  broken.  Geordie,  who  had 
been  listening  somewhat  indifferently,  encouraged 
me,  however,  by  saying, '  She 's  just  pittin'  aff  time 
with  thae  feckless  sangs ;  man,  there 's  nae  grup 
till  them.'  But  when,  after  a  few  minutes'  pause, 
she  began  'My  Ain  Fireside,'  Geordie  gave  a 
sigh  of  satisfaction.  'Ay,  that's  somethin*  like,' 
and  when  she  finished  the  first  verse  he  gave  me 
a  dig  in  the  ribs  with  his  elbow  that  took  my 


no  BLACK  ROCK 

breath  away,  saying  in  a  whisper, '  Man,  hear  till 
yon,  wull  ye  ? '  And  again  I  found  the  spell  upon 
me.  It  was  not  the  voice  after  all,  but  the  great 
soul  behind  that  thrilled  and  compelled,  She 
was  seeing,  feeling,  living  what  she  sang,  and  her 
voice  showed  us  her  heart  The  cosy  fireside, 
with  its  bonnie,  blithe  blink,  where  no  care  could 
abide,  but  only  peace  and  love,  was  vividly 
present  to  her,  and  as  she  sang  we  saw  it  too. 
When  she  came  to  the  last  verse — 

'  When  I  draw  in  my  stool 

On  my  cosy  hearth-stane, 
My  heart  loups  sae  licht 
I  scarce  ken 't  for  my  ain,' 

there  was  a  feeling  of  tears  in  the  flowing  song, 
and  we  knew  the  words  had  brought  her  a  picture 
of  the  fireside  that  would  always  seem  empty. 
I  felt  the  tears  in  my  eyes,  and,  wondering  at 
myself,  I  cast  a  stealthy  glance  at  the  men  about 
me;  and  I  saw  that  they,  too,  were  looking 
through  their  hearts'  windows  upon  firesides  and 
ingle-neuks  that  gleamed  from  far. 

And  then  she  sang  'The  Auld  Hoose,'  and 
Geordie,  giving  me  another  poke,  said,  'That's 
ma  ain  sang/  and  when  I  asked  him  what  he 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE   in 

meant,  he  whispered  fiercely,  'Wheesht,  man!' 
and  I  did,  for  his  face  looked  dangerous. 

In  a  pause  between  the  verses  I  heard  Geordie 
saying  to  himself, '  Ay,  I  maun  gie  it  up,  I  doot.' 

'What?'  I  ventured. 

'Naething  ava/  And  then  he  added  impa- 
tiently, 'Man,  but  ye 're  an  inqueesitive  buddie,' 
after  which  I  subsided  into  silence. 

Immediately  upon  the  meeting  being  called  to 
order,  Mr.  Craig  made  his  speech,  and  it  was  a 
fine  bit  of  work.  Beginning  with  a  clear  state- 
ment of  the  object  in  view,  he  set  in  contrast 
the  two  kinds  of  leagues  proposed.  One,  a  league 
of  men  who  would  take  whisky  in  moderation  ; 
the  other,  a  league  of  men  who  were  pledged  to 
drink  none  themselves,  and  to  prevent  in  every 
honourable  way  others  from  drinking.  There  was 
no  long  argument,  but  he  spoke  at  white  heat ; 
and  as  he  appealed  to  the  men  to  think,  each 
not  of  himself  alone,  but  of  the  others  as  well, 
the  yearning,  born  of  his  long  months  of  desire 
and  of  toil,  vibrated  in  his  voice  and  reached  to 
the  heart  Many  men  looked  uncomfortable  and 
uncertain,  and  even  the  manager  looked  none  too 
cheerful 


na  BLACK  ROCK 

At  this  critical  moment  the  crowd  got  a  shock. 
Billy  Breen  shuffled  out  to  the  front,  and,  in  a 
voice  shaking  with  nervousness  and  emotion, 
began  to  speak,  his  large,  coarse  hands  wandering 
tremulously  about. 

'  Oi  hain't  no  bloomin'  temperance  horator,  and 
mayhap  oi  hain't  no  right  to  speak  'ere,  but  oi  got 
somethin'  to  saigh  (say)  and  oi  'm  agoin'  to  saigh  it. 

'Parson,  'ee  says  is  it  wisky  or  no  wisky  in 
this  'ere  club  ?  If  ye  hask  me,  wich  (which)  ye 
don't,  then  no  wisky,  says  oi;  and  if  ye  hask 
why  ? — look  at  me  !  Once  oi  could  mine  more 
coal  than  hany  man  in  the  camp ;  now  oi  hain't 
fit  to  be  a  sorter.  Once  oi  'ad  some  pride  and 
hambition  ;  now  oi  'angs  round  awaitin'  for  some 
one  to  saigh,  "'Ere,  Billy,  'ave  summat."  Once 
oi  made  good  paigh  (pay),  and  sent  it  'ome 
regular  to  my  poor  old  mother  (she 's  in  the  wukus 
now,  she  is);  oi  hain't  sent  'er  hany  for  a  year 
and  a  'alf.  Once  Billy  was  a  good  fellow  and  'ad 
plenty  o'  friends ;  now  Slavin  'isself  kicks  un  hout, 
'ee  does.  Why?  why?'  His  voice  rose  to  a 
shriek.  'Because  when  Billy  'ad  money  in  'is 
pocket,  hevery  man  in  this  bloomin'  camp  as 
meets  un  at  hevery  corner  says,  '"Ello,  Billy, 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE       113 

wat  '11  ye  'ave  ? "  And  there 's  wisky  at  Slavin's, 
and  there's  wisky  in  the  shacks,  and  hevery 
'oliday  and  hevery  Sunday  there's  wisky,  and 
w'en  ye  feel  bad  it's  wisky,  and  w'en  ye  feel 
good  it's  wisky,  and  hevery  where  and  halways 
it 's  wisky,  wisky,  wisky !  And  now  ye  're  goin' 
to  stop  it,  and  'ow  ?  T*  manager,  'ee  says  picters 
and  magazines.  'Ee  takes  'is  wine  and  'is  beer 
like  a  gentleman,  'ee  does,  and  'ee  don't  'ave  no 
use  for  Billy  Breen.  Billy,  'ee's  a  beast,  and 
t'  manager,  'ee  kicks  un  hout.  But  supposin'  Billy 
wants  to  stop  bein'  a  beast,  and  starts  a-tryin*  to 
be  a  man  again,  and  w'en  'ee  gets  good  an'  dry, 
along  comes  some  un  and  says,  "'Ello,  Billy, 
'ave  a  smile,"  it  hain't  picters  nor  magazines  'ud 
stop  un  then.  Picters  and  magazines!  Gawd 
'elp  the  man  as  hain't  nothin'  but  picters  and 
magazines  to  'elp  un  w'en  'ee 's  got  a  devil  hin- 
side  and  a  devil  houtside  a-shovin'  and  a-drawin' 
of  un  down  to  'elL  And  that 's  w'ere  oi  'm  a-goin' 
straight,  and  yer  bloomin'  League,  wisky  or  no 
wisky,  can't  help  me.  But,'  and  he  lifted  his 
trembling  hands  above  his  head,  '  if  ye  stop  the 
wisky  a-flowin'  round  this  camp,  ye  '11  stop  some 
of  these  lads  that 's  a-followin'  me  'ard.  Yes,  you ! 


ii4  BLACK  ROCK 

and  you !  and  you ! '  and  his  voice  rose  to  a  wild 
scream  as  he  shook  a  trembling  finger  at  one  and 
another. 

'Man,  it's  fair  gruesome  tae  hear  him/  said 
Geordie  ;  '  he 's  no'  canny ' ;  and  reaching  out  for 
Billy  as  he  went  stumbling  past,  he  pulled  him 
down  to  a  seat  beside  him,  saying,  '  Sit  doon,  lad, 
sit  doon.  We'll  mak  a  man  o*  ye  yet'  Then 
he  rose  and,  using  many  r's,  said, '  Maister  Chair- 
man, a'  doot  we  '11  juist  hae  to  gie  it  up.' 

'Give  it  up?'  called  out  Nixon.  'Give  up  the 
League  ? ' 

'  Na !  na !  lad,  but  juist  the  wee  drap  whusky. 
It's  nae  that  guid  onyway,  and  it's  a  terrible 
price.  Man,  gin  ye  gang  tae  Henderson's  in 
Buchanan  Street,  in  Gleska,  ye  ken,  ye  '11  get  mair 
for  three-an'-saxpence  than  ye  wull  at  Slavin's 
for  five  dollars.  An'  it  '11  no'  pit  ye  mad  like  yon 
stuff,  but  it  gangs  doon  smooth  an'  saft-like. 
But'  (regretfully)  'ye '11  no'  can  get  it  here;  an' 
a'm  thinkin'  a'll  juist  sign  yon  teetotal  thing.' 
And  up  he  strode  to  the  table  and  put  his  name 
down  in  the  book  Craig  had  ready.  Then  to 
Billy  he  said,  '  Come  awa,  lad  1  pit  yer  name 
doon,  an'  we  '11  stan'  by  ye.' 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE       115 

Poor  Billy  looked  around  helplessly,  his  nerve 
all  gone,  and  sat  still.  There  was  a  swift  rustle 
of  garments,  and  Mrs.  Mavor  was  beside  him,  and, 
in  a  voice  that  only  Billy  and  I  could  hear,  said, 
'You'll  sign  with  me,  Billy?' 

Billy  gazed  at  her  with  a  hopeless  look  in  his 
eyes,  and  shook  his  little  head.  She  leaned 
slightly  toward  him,  smiling  brightly,  and,  touch- 
ing his  arm  gently,  said — 

'Come,  Billy,  there's  no  fear,'  and  in  a  lower 
voice, '  God  will  help  you.' 

As  Billy  went  up,  following  Mrs.  Mavor  close, 
a  hu  h  fell  on  the  men  until  he  had  put  his  name 
to  the  pledge  ;  then  they  came  up,  man  by  man, 
and  signed.  But  Craig  sat  with  his  head  down 
till  I  touched  his  shoulder.  He  took  my  hand 
and  held  it  fast,  saying  over  and  over,  under  his 
breath, '  Thank  God,  thank  God  1 ' 

And  so  the  League  was  made. 


BLACK  ROCK  RELIGION 


CHAPTER  VI 

BLACK   ROCK   RELIGION 

WHEN  I  grow  weary  with  the  conventions  of 
religion,  and  sick  in  my  soul  from  feeding  upon 
husks,  that  the  churches  too  often  offer  me,  in 
the  shape  of  elaborate  service  and  eloquent  dis- 
courses, so  that  in  my  sickness  I  doubt  and  doubt, 
then  I  go  back  to  the  communion  in  Black  Rock 
and  the  days  preceding  it,  and  the  fever  and 
the  weariness  leave  me,  and  I  grow  humble  and 
strong.  The  simplicity  and  rugged  grandeur  of 
the  faith,  the  humble  gratitude  of  the  rough  men 
I  see  about  the  table,  and  the  calm  radiance  of 
one  saintly  face,  rest  and  recall  me. 

Not  its  most  enthusiastic  apologist  would  call 
Black  Rock  a  religious  community,  but  it  pos- 
sessed in  a  marked  degree  that  eminent  Christian 
virtue  of  tolerance.  All  creeds,  all  shades  of 
religious  opinion,  were  allowed,  and  it  was  gener- 

119 


no  BLACK  ROCK 

ally  conceded  that  one  was  as  good  as  another. 
It  is  fair  to  say,  however,  that  Black  Rock's 
catholicity  was  negative  rather  than  positive. 
The  only  religion  objectionable  was  that  insisted 
upon  as  a  necessity.  It  never  occurred  to  any  one 
to  consider  religion  other  than  as  a  respectable,  if 
not  ornamental,  addition  to  life  in  older  lands. 

During  the  weeks  following  the  making  of  the 
League,  however,  this  negative  attitude  towards 
things  religious  gave  place  to  one  of  keen  inves- 
tigation and  criticism.  The  indifference  passed 
away,  and  with  it,  in  a  large  measure,  the  toler- 
ance. Mr.  Craig  was  responsible  for  the  former 
of  these  changes,  but  hardly,  in  fairness,  could 
he  be  held  responsible  for  the  latter.  If  any  one, 
more  than  another,  was  to  be  blamed  for  the 
rise  of  intolerance  in  the  village,  that  man  was 
Geordie  Crawford.  He  had  his  '  lines '  from  the 
Established  Kirk  of  Scotland,  and  when  Mr. 
Craig  announced  his  intention  of  having  the 
Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  observed,  Geordie 
produced  his  '  lines '  and  promptly  handed  them 
in.  As  no  other  man  in  the  village  was  equipped 
with  like  spiritual  credentials,  Geordie  constituted 
himself  a  kind  of  kirk-session,  charged  with  the 


BLACK  ROCK  RELIGION  isi 

double  duty  of  guarding  the  entrance  to  the 
Lord's  Table,  and  of  keeping  an  eye  upon  the 
theological  opinions  of  the  community,  and  more 
particularly  upon  such  members  of  it  as  gave 
evidence  of  possessing  any  opinions  definite 
enough  for  statement 

It  came  to  be  Mr.  Craig's  habit  to  drop  into 
the  League-room,  and  toward  the  close  of  the 
evening  to  have  a  short  Scripture  lesson  from 
the  Gospels.  Geordie's  opportunity  came  after 
the  meeting  was  over  and  Mr.  Craig  had  gone 
away.  The  men  would  hang  about  and  talk  the 
lesson  over,  expressing  opinions  favourable  or 
unfavourable  as  appeared  to  them  good.  Then 
it  was  that  all  sorts  of  views,  religious  and  other- 
wise, were  aired  and  examined.  The  originality 
of  the  ideas,  the  absolute  disregard  of  the  autho- 
rity of  church  or  creed,  the  frankness  with  which 
opinions  were  stated,  and  the  forcefulness  of  the 
language  in  which  they  were  expressed,  combined 
to  make  the  discussions  altogether  marvellous. 
The  passage  between  Abe  Baker,  the  stage-driver, 
and  Geordie  was  particularly  rich.  It  followed 
upon  a  very  telling  lesson  on  the  parable  of  the 
Pharisee  and  the  Publican. 


laa  BLACK  ROCK 

The  chief  actors  in  that  wonderful  story 
were  transferred  to  the  Black  Rock  stage,  and 
were  presented  in  miner's  costume.  Abe  was 
particularly  well  pleased  with  the  scoring  of 
the  '  blanked  old  rooster  who  crowed  so  blanked 
high/  and  somewhat  incensed  at  the  quiet  re- 
mark interjected  by  Geordie,  'that  it  was  nae 
credit  till  a  man  tae  be  a  sinner ' ;  and  when 
Geordie  went  on  to  urge  the  importance  of  right 
conduct  and  respectability,  Abe  was  led  to  pour 
forth  vials  of  contemptuous  wrath  upon  the 
Pharisees  and  hypocrites  who  thought  them- 
selves better  than  other  people.  But  Geordie 
was  quite  unruffled,  and  lamented  the  ignorance 
of  men  who,  brought  up  in  '  Epeescopawlyun 
or  Methody '  churches,  could  hardly  be  expected 
to  detect  the  Antinomian  or  Arminian  heresies. 

'Aunty  Nomyun  or  Uncle  Nomyun,'  replied 
Abe,  boiling  hot,  'my  mother  was  a  Methodist, 
and  I  '11  back  any  blanked  Methodist  against 
any  blankety  blank  long-faced,  lantern-jawed, 
skinflint  Presbyterian,'  and  this  he  was  eager 
to  maintain  to  any  man's  satisfaction  if  he  would 
step  outside. 

Geordie  was  quite  unmoved,  but  hastened  to 


BLACK  ROCK  RELIGION  ia3 

assure  Abe  that  he  meant  no  disrespect  to  his 
mother,  who  he  had  'nae  doot  was  a  clever 
enough  buddie,  tae  judge  by  her  son.'  Abe 
was  speedily  appeased,  and  offered  to  set  up  the 
drinks  all  round.  But  Geordie,  with  evident 
reluctance,  had  to  decline,  saying,  '  Na,  na,  lad, 
I  'm  a  League  man,  ye  ken,'  and  I  was  sure 
that  Geordie  at  that  moment  felt  that  member- 
ship in  the  League  had  its  drawbacks. 

Nor  was  Geordie  too  sure  of  Craig's  ortho- 
doxy; while  as  to  Mrs.  Mavor,  whose  slave  he 
was,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  lamenting  her  doctrinal 
condition — 

'She's  a  fine  wumman,  nae  doot;  but,  puir 
cratur,  she's  fair  carried  awa  wi'  the  errors  o* 
thae  Epeescopawlyuns.' 

It  fell  to  Geordie,  therefore,  as  a  sacred  duty,  in 
view  of  the  laxity  of  those  who  seemed  to  be  the 
pillars  of  the  Church,  to  be  all  the  more  watchful 
and  unyielding.  But  he  was  delightfully  incon- 
sistent when  confronted  with  particulars.  In 
conversation  with  him  one  night  after  one  of 
the  meetings,  when  he  had  been  specially  hard 
upon  the  ignorant  and  godless,  I  innocently 
changed  the  subject  to  Billy  Breen,  whom 


124  BLACK  ROCK 

Geordie  had  taken  to  his  shack  since  the  night 
of  the  League.  He  was  very  proud  of  Billy's 
success  in  the  fight  against  whisky,  the  credit 
of  which  he  divided  unevenly  between  Mrs. 
Mavor  and  himself. 

'  He 's  fair  daft  aboot  her,'  he  explained  to 
me,  '  an'  I  '11  no'  deny  but  she 's  a  great  help, 
ay,  a  verra  conseederable  asseestance ;  but,  man, 
she  doesna  ken  the  whusky,  an'  the  inside  o'  a 
man  that's  wantin'  it  Ay,  puir  buddie,  she 
diz  her  pairt,  an'  when  ye 're  a  bit  restless  an' 
thrawn  aifter  yer  day's  wark,  it's  like  a  walk 
in  a  bonnie  glen  on  a  simmer  eve,  with  the  birds 
HI  tin'  aboot,  tae  sit  in  yon  roomie  and  hear  her 
sing ;  but  when  the  night  is  on,  an'  ye  canna 
sleep,  but  wauken  wi'  an*  awfu'  thurst  and  wi' 
dreams  o'  cosy  firesides,  and  the  bonnie  sparklin' 
glosses,  as  it  is  wi'  puir  Billy,  ay,  it 's  then  ye 
need  a  man  wi'  a  guid  grup  beside  ye.' 

1  What  do  you  do  then,  Geordie  ?  '  I  asked. 

'  Oo  ay,  I  juist  gang  for  a  bit  walk  wi'  the  lad, 
and  then  pits  the  kettle  on  an'  maks  a  cup  o'  tea 
or  coffee,  an'  aff  he  gangs  tae  sleep  like  a  bairn.' 

1  Poor  Billy,'  I  said  pityingly, '  there 's  no  hope 
for  him  in  the  future,  I  fear.' 


BLACK  ROCK  RELIGION  1*5 

'Hoot  awa,  man/  said  Geordie  quickly.  'Ye 
wadna  keep  oot  a  puir  cratur  frae  creepin*  in, 
that 's  daein'  his  best  ? ' 

'But,  Geordie/  I  remonstrated,  'he  doesn't 
know  anything  of  the  doctrines.  I  don't  believe 
he  could  give  us  "  The  Chief  End  of  Man." ' 

'An'  wha's  tae  blame  for  that?'  said  Geordie, 
with  fine  indignation.  'An'  maybe  you  re- 
member the  prood  Pharisee  and  the  puir 
wumman  that  cam'  creepin'  in  ahint  the 
Maister.' 

The  mingled  tenderness  and  indignation  in 
Geordie's  face  were  beautiful  to  see,  so  I  meekly 
answered,  '  Well,  I  hope  Mr.  Craig  won't  be  too 
strict  with  the  boys.' 

Geordie  shot  a  suspicious  glance  at  me,  but 
I  kept  my  face  like  a  summer  morn,  and  he 
replied  cautiously — 

'  Ay,  he 's  no'  that  streect :  but  he  maun 
exerceese  discreemmation.' 

Geordie  was  none  the  less  determined,  however, 
that  Billy  should  'come  forrit';  but  as  to  the 
manager,  who  was  a  member  of  the  English 
Church,  and  some  others  who  had  been  confirmed 
years  ago,  and  had  forgotten  much  and  denied 


126  BLACK  ROCK 

more,  he  was  extremely  doubtful,  and  expressed 
himself  in  very  decided  words  to  the  minister — 

'  Ye  '11  no'  be  askin'  forrit  thae  Epeescopawlyun 
buddies.  They  juist  ken  naething  ava.' 

But  Mr.  Craig  looked  at  him  for  a  moment 
and  said,  ' "  Him  that  cometh  unto  Me  I  will  in 
no  wise  cast  out," '  and  Geordie  was  silent,  though 
he  continued  doubtful 

With  all  these  somewhat  fantastic  features, 
however,  there  was  no  mistaking  the  earnest 
spirit  of  the  men.  The  meetings  grew  larger 
every  night,  and  the  interest  became  more 
intense.  The  singing  became  different.  The 
men  no  longer  simply  shouted,  but  as  Mr.  Craig 
would  call  attention  to  the  sentiment  of  the 
hymn,  the  voices  would  attune  themselves  to 
the  words.  Instead  of  encouraging  anything 
like  emotional  excitement,  Mr.  Craig  seemed 
to  fear  it 

'These  chaps  are  easily  stirred  up,'  he  would 
say,  'and  I  am  anxious  that  they  should  know 
exactly  what  they  are  doing.  It  is  far  too  serious 
a  business  to  trifle  with.' 

Although  Graeme  did  not  go  downstairs  to  the 
meetings,  he  could  not  but  feel  the  throb  of  the 


BLACK  ROCK  RELIGION  127 

emotion  beating  in  the  heart  of  the  community. 
I  used  to  detail  for  his  benefit,  and  sometimes 
for  his  amusement,  the  incidents  of  each  night 
But  I  never  felt  quite  easy  in  dwelling  upon 
the  humorous  features  in  Mrs.  Mayor's  presence, 
although  Craig  did  not  appear  to  mind.  His 
manner  with  Graeme  was  perfect  Openly 
anxious  to  win  him  to  his  side,  he  did  not 
improve  the  occasion  and  vex  him  with  ex- 
hortation. He  would  not  take  him  at  a 
disadvantage,  though,  as  I  afterwards  found, 
this  was  not  his  sole  reason  for  his  method. 
Mrs.  Mavor,  too,  showed  herself  in  wise  and 
tender  light.  She  might  have  been  his  sister, 
so  frank  was  she  and  so  openly  affectionate, 
laughing  at  his  fretful  ness  and  soothing  his 
weariness. 

Never  were  better  comrades  than  we  four,  and 
the  bright  days  speeding  so  swiftly  on  drew  us 
nearer  to  one  another. 

But  the  bright  days  came  to  an  end ;  for 
Graeme,  when  once  he  was  able  to  go  about, 
became  anxious  to  get  back  to  the  camp.  And 
so  the  last  day  came,  a  day  I  remember  well. 
It  was  a  bright,  crisp  winter  day. 


128  BLACK  ROCK 

The  air  was  shimmering  in  the  frosty  light. 
The  mountains,  with  their  shining  heads  piercing 
through  light  clouds  into  that  wonderful  blue  of 
the  western  sky,  and  their  feet  pushed  into  the 
pine  masses,  gazed  down  upon  Black  Rock  with 
calm,  kindly  looks  on  their  old  grey  faces.  How 
one  grows  to  love  them,  steadfast  old  friends !  Far 
up  among  the  pines  we  could  see  the  smoke  of 
the  engine  at  the  works,  and  so  still  and  so  clear 
was  the  mountain  air  that  we  could  hear  the  puff 
of  the  steam,  and  from  far  down  the  river  the 
murmur  of  the  rapids.  The  majestic  silence,  the 
tender  beauty,  the  peace,  the  loneliness,  too,  came 
stealing  in  upon  us,  as  we  three,  leaving  Mrs. 
Mavor  behind  us,  marched  arm-in-arm  down  the 
street.  We  had  not  gone  far  on  our  way,  when 
Graeme,  turning  round,  stood  a  moment  looking 
back,  then  waved  his  hand  in  farewell.  Mrs. 
Mavor  was  at  her  window,  smiling  and  waving 
in  return.  They  had  grown  to  be  great  friends 
these  two ;  and  seemed  to  have  arrived  at  some 
understanding.  Certainly,  Graeme's  manner  to 
her  was  not  that  he  bore  to  other  women.  His 
half-quizzical,  somewhat  superior  air  of  mocking 
devotion  gave  place  to  a  simple,  earnest,  almost 


BLACK  ROCK  RELIGION  129 

tender,  respect,  very  new  to  him,  but  very 
winning. 

As  he  stood  there  waving  his  farewell,  I 
glanced  at  his  face  and  saw  for  a  moment  what 
I  had  not  seen  for  years,  a  faint  flush  on  Graeme's 
cheek  and  a  light  of  simple,  earnest  faith  in  his 
eyes.  It  reminded  me  of  my  first  look  of  him 
when  he  had  come  up  for  his  matriculation  to  the 
'Varsity.  He  stood  on  the  campus  looking  up 
at  the  noble  old  pile,  and  there  was  the  same 
bright,  trustful,  earnest  look  on  his  boyish  face. 

I  know  not  what  spirit  possessed  me ;  it  may 
have  been  the  pain  of  the  memory  working  in 
me,  but  I  said,  coarsely  enough,  '  It 's  no  use, 
Graeme,  my  boy ;  I  would  fall  in  love  with  her 
myself,  but  there  would  be  no  chance  even 
for  me.' 

The  flush  slowly  darkened  as  he  turned  and 
said  deliberately — 

'  It 's  not  like  you,  Connor,  to  be  an  ass  of 
that  peculiar  kind.  Love  ! — not  exactly !  She 

won't  fall  in  love  unless '  and  he  stopped 

abruptly  with  his  eyes  upon  Craig. 

But  Craig  met  him  with  unshrinking  gaze, 
quietly  remarking, '  Her  heart  is  under  the  pines ' ; 

I 


130  BLACK  ROCK 

and  we  moved  on,  each  thinking  his  own 
thoughts,  and  guessing  at  the  thoughts  of  the 
others. 

We  were  on  our  way  to  Craig's  shack,  and  as 
we  passed  the  saloon  Slavin  stepped  from  the 
door  with  a  salutation.  Graeme  paused.  '  Hello, 
Slavin !  I  got  rather  the  worst  of  it,  didn't  I  ? ' 

Slavin  came  near,  and  said  earnestly,  '  It  was 
a  dirty  thrick  altogether ;  you  '11  not  think  it 
was  moine,  Mr.  Graeme.' 

'  No,  no,  Slavin !  you  stood  up  like  a  man,' 
said  Graeme  cheerfully. 

'And  you  bate  me  fair;  an'  bedad  it  was  a 
nate  one  that  laid  me  out ;  an'  there 's  no  grudge 
in  me  heart  till  ye.' 

'  All  right,  Slavin ;  we  '11  perhaps  understand 
each  other  better  after  this.' 

1  An'  that 's  thrue  for  yez,  sor ;  an'  I  '11  see  that 
your  byes  don't  get  any  more  than  they  ask  for,' 
replied  Slavin,  backing  away. 

'And  I  hope  that  won't  be  much/  put  in 
Mr.  Craig  ;  but  Slavin  only  grinned. 

When  we  came  to  Craig's  shack  Graeme  was 
glad  to  rest  in  the  big  chair. 

Craig  made  him  a  cup  of  tea,  while  I  smoked, 


BLACK  ROCK  RELIGION  131 

admiring  much  the  deft  neatness  of  the  minister's 
housekeeping,  and  the  gentle,  almost  motherly, 
way  he  had  with  Graeme. 

In  our  talk  we  drifted  into  the  future,  and 
Craig  let  us  see  what  were  his  ambitions.  The 
railway  was  soon  to  come ;  the  resources  were, 
as  yet,  unexplored,  but  enough  was  known  to 
assure  a  great  future  for  British  Columbia.  As 
he  talked  his  enthusiasm  grew,  and  carried  us 
away.  With  the  eye  of  a  general  he  surveyed 
the  country,  fixed  the  strategic  points  which  the 
Church  must  seize  upon.  Eight  good  men  would 
hold  the  country  from  Fort  Steele  to  the  coast, 
and  from  Kootenay  to  Cariboo. 

'The  Church  must  be  in  with  the  railway;  she 
must  have  a  hand  in  the  shaping  of  the  country. 
If  society  crystallises  without  her  influence,  the 
country  is  lost,  and  British  Columbia  will  be 
another  trap-door  to  the  bottomless  pit* 

1  What  do  you  propose  ? '  I  asked. 

'  Organising  a  little  congregation  here  in  Black 
Rock.' 

1  How  many  will  you  get  ? ' 

'Don't  know.' 

1  Pretty  hopeless  business,'  I  said. 


i3«  BLACK  ROCK 

1  Hopeless !  hopeless ! '  he  cried  ;  '  there  were 
only  twelve  of  us  at  first  to  follow  Him,  and 
rather  a  poor  lot  they  were.  But  He  braced 
them  up,  and  they  conquered  the  world.1 

'  But  surely  things  are  different,'  said  Graeme. 

'Things?  Yes!  yes!  But  He  is  the  same.' 
His  face  had  an  exalted  look,  and  his  eyes  were 
gazing  into  far-away  places. 

'  A  dozen  men  in  Black  Rock  with  some  real 
grip  of  Him  would  make  things  go.  We  '11  get 
them,  too,'  he  went  on  in  growing  excitement 
'  I  believe  in  my  soul  we  '11  get  them.' 

'  Look  here,  Craig  ;  if  you  organise  I  'd  like  to 
join,'  said  Graeme  impulsively.  '  I  don't  believe 
much  in  your  creed  or  your  Church,  but  I  '11  be 
blowed  if  I  don't  believe  in  you.' 

Craig  looked  at  him  with  wistful  eyes,  and 
shook  his  head.  '  It  won't  do,  old  chap,  you 
know.  I  can't  hold  you.  You  Ve  got  to  have 
a  grip  of  some  one  better  than  I  am ;  and  then, 
besides,  I  hardly  like  asking  you  now ' ;  he  hesi- 
tated— 'well,  to  be  out-and-out,  this  step  must 
Lc  taken  not  for  my  sake,  nor  for  any  man's  sake, 
and  I  fancy  that  perhaps  you  feel  like  pleasing 
me  just  now  a  little.' 


BLACK  ROCK  RELIGION  133 

'That  I  do,  old  fellow,'  said  Graeme,  putting 
out  his  hand.  'I'll  be  hanged  if  I  won't  do 
anything  you  say.' 

'  That 's  why  I  won't  say,'  replied  Craig.  Then 
reverently  he  addea,  <The  organisation  is  not 
mine.  It  is  my  Master's.' 

1  When  are  you  going  to  begin  ? '  asked 
Graeme. 

1  We  shall  have  our  communion  service  in  two 
weeks,  and  that  will  be  our  roll-call.' 

'  How  many  will  answer  ? '  I  asked  doubtfully. 

'  I  know  of  three/  he  said  quietly. 

'  Three  1  There  are  two  hundred  miners  and 
one  hundred  and  fifty  lumbermen !  Three  I '  and 
Graeme  looked  at  him  in  amazement  'You 
think  it  worth  while  to  organise  three  ? ' 

'  Well,'  replied  Craig,  smiling  for  the  first  time, 
'the  organisation  won't  be  elaborate,  but  it  will 
be  effective,  and,  besides,  loyalty  demands  obedi- 
ence.1 

We  sat  long  that  afternoon  talking,  shrinking 
from  the  breaking  up ;  for  we  knew  that  we  were 
about  to  turn  down  a  chapter  in  our  lives  which 
we  should  delight  to  linger  over  in  after  days. 
And  in  my  life  there  is  but  one  brighter.  At  last 


134  BLACK  ROCK 

\ve  said  good-bye  and  drove  away  ;  and  though 
many  farewells  have  come  in  between  that  day 
and  this,  none  is  so  vividly  present  to  me  as  that 
between  us  three  men.  Craig's  manner  with  me 
was  solemn  enough.  ' "  He  that  loveth  his  life  " ; 
good-bye,  don't  fool  with  this,'  was  what  he  said 
to  me.  But  when  he  turned  to  Graeme  his  whole 
face  lit  up.  He  took  him  by  the  shoulders  and 
gave  him  a  little  shake,  looking  into  his  eyes,  and 
saying  over  and  over  in  a  low,  sweet  tone — 

'You'll  come,  old  chap,  you'll  come,  you'll 
come.  Tell  me  you  '11  come.' 

And  Graeme  could  say  nothing  in  reply,  but 
only  looked  at  him.  Then  they  silently  shook 
hands,  and  we  drove  off.  But  long  after  we  had 
got  over  the  mountain  and  into  the  winding  forest 
road  on  the  way  to  the  lumber-camp  the  voice 
kept  vibrating  in  my  heart,  '  You  '11  come,  you  '11 
come,'  and  there  was  a  hot  pain  in  my  throat. 

We  said  little  during  the  drive  to  the  camp. 
Graeme  was  thinking  hard,  and  made  no  answer 
when  I  spoke  to  him  two  or  three  times,  till  we 
came  to  the  deep  shadows  of  the  pine  forest, 
when  with  a  little  shiver  he  said — 

1  It  is  all  a  tangle — a  hopeless  tangle,' 


BLACK  ROCK  RELIGION  135 

1  Meaning  what  ? '  I  asked. 

1  This  business  of  religion — what  quaint  varie- 
ties— Nelson's,  Geordie's,  Billy  Breen's — if  he 
has  any — then  Mrs.  Mayor's — she  is  a  saint,  of 
course — and  that  fellow  Craig's.  What  a  trump 
he  is  ! — and  without  his  religion  he  'd  be  pretty 
much  like  the  rest  of  us.  It  is  too  much  for  me.' 

His  mystery  was  not  mine.  The  Black  Rock 
varieties  of  religion  were  certainly  startling ;  but 
there  was  undoubtedly  the  streak  of  reality 
though  them  all,  and  that  discovery  I  felt  to  be 
a  distinct  gain 


THE  FIRST  BLACK  ROCK 
COMMUNION 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE  FIRST  BLACK  ROCK  COMMUNION 

THE  gleam  of  the  great  fire  through  the  windows 
of  the  great  camp  gave  a  kindly  welcome  as  we 
drove  into  the  clearing  in  which  the  shanties 
stood.  Graeme  was  greatly  touched  at  his 
enthusiastic  welcome  by  the  men.  At  the  supper- 
table  he  made  a  little  speech  of  thanks  for  their 
faithfulness  during  his  absence,  specially  com- 
mending the  care  and  efficiency  of  Mr.  Nelson, 
who  had  had  charge  of  the  camp.  The  men 
cheered  wildly,  Baptiste's  shrill  voice  leading  all. 
Nelson  being  called  upon,  expressed  in  a  few 
words  his  pleasure  at  seeing  the  Boss  back,  and 
thanked  the  men  for  their  support  while  he  had 
been  in  charge. 

The  men  were  for  making  a  night  of  it ;  but 
fearing  the  effect  upon  Graeme,  I  spoke  to  Nelson, 
who  passed  the  word,  and  in  a  short  time  the 
camp  was  quiet.  As  we  sauntered  from  the  grub- 


t4o  BLACK  ROCK 

camp  to  the  office  where  was  our  bed,  we  paused 
to  take  in  the  beauty  of  the  night.  The  moon 
rode  high  over  the  peaks  of  the  mountains,  flood- 
ing the  narrow  valley  with  mellow  light.  Under 
her  magic  the  rugged  peaks  softened  their  harsh 
lines  and  seemed  to  lean  lovingly  toward  us. 
The  dark  pine  masses  stood  silent  as  in  breathless 
adoration  ;  the  dazzling  snow  lay  like  a  garment 
over  all  the  open  spaces  in  soft  waving  folds, 
and  crowned  every  stump  with  a  quaintly  shaped 
nightcap.  Above  the  camps  the  smoke  curled  up 
from  the  camp-fires,  standing  like  pillars  of  cloud 
that  kept  watch  while  men  slept.  And  high  over 
all  the  deep  blue  night  sky,  with  its  star  jewels, 
sprang  like  the  roof  of  a  great  cathedral  from 
range  to  range,  covering  us  in  its  kindly  shelter. 
How  homelike  and  safe  seemed  the  valley  with 
its  mountain-sides,  its  sentinel  trees  and  arching 
roof  of  jewelled  skyl  Even  the  night  seemed 
kindly,  and  friendly  the  stars ;  and  the  lone  cry 
of  the  wolf  from  the  deep  forest  seemed  like  the 
voice  of  a  comrade. 

'  How  beautiful !  too  beautiful ! '  said  Graeme, 
stretching  out  his  arms.  '  A  night  like  this  takes 
the  heart  out  of  me,' 


THE  FIRST  BLACK  ROCK  COMMUNION    141 

I  stood  silent,  drinking  in  at  every  sense  the 
night  with  its  wealth  of  loveliness. 

'  What  is  it  I  want  ? '  he  went  on.  '  Why  does 
the  night  make  my  heart  ache  ?  There  are  things 
to  see  and  things  to  hear  just  beyond  me ;  I  can- 
not get  to  them.'  The  gay,  careless  look  was 
gone  from  his  face,  his  dark  eyes  were  wistful 
with  yearning. 

'  I  often  wonder  if  life  has  nothing  better  for 
me/  he  continued  with  his  heartache  voice. 

I  said  no  word,  but  put  my  arm  within  his.  A 
light  appeared  in  the  stable.  Glad  of  a  diversion, 
I  said, '  What  is  the  light  ?  Let  us  go  and  see.' 

'Sandy,  taking  a  last  look  at  his  team,  like 
enough.' 

We  walked  slowly  toward  the  stable,  speaking 
no  word.  As  we  neared  the  door  we  heard  the 
sound  of  a  voice  in  the  monotone  of  one  reading. 
I  stepped  forward  and  looked  through  a  chink 
between  the  logs.  Graeme  was  about  to  open  the 
door,  but  I  held  up  my  hand  and  beckoned  him 
to  me.  In  a  vacant  stall,  where  was  a  pile  of 
straw,  a  number  of  men  were  grouped.  Sandy, 
leaning  against  the  tying-post  upon  which  the 
stable-lantern  hung,  was  reading;  Nelson  was 


H«  BLACK  ROCK 

kneeling  in  front  of  him  and  gazing  into  the 
gloom  beyond ;  Baptiste  lay  upon  his  stomach, 
his  chin  in  his  hands  and  his  upturned  eyes 
fastened  upon  Sandy's  face;  Lachlan  Campbell 
sat  with  his  hands  clasped  about  his  knees, 
and  two  other  men  sat  near  him.  Sandy  was 
reading  the  undying  story  of  the  Prodigal, 
Nelson  now  and  then  stopping  him  to  make 
a  remark.  It  was  a  scene  I  have  never  been 
able  to  forget.  To-day  I  pause  in  my  tale, 
and  see  it  as  clearly  as  when  I  looked  through 
the  chink  upon  it  years  ago.  The  long,  low 
stable,  with  log  walls  and  upright  hitching-poles  ; 
the  dim  outlines  of  the  horses  in  the  gloom  of 
the  background,  and  the  little  group  of  rough, 
almost  savage-looking  men,  with  faces  wondering 
and  reverent,  lit  by  the  misty  light  of  the  stable- 
lantern. 

After  the  reading,  Sandy  handed  the  book  to 
Nelson,  who  put  it  in  his  pocket,  saying, '  That 's 
for  us,  boys,  ain't  it  ? ' 

'  Ay,'  said  Lachlan ;  '  it  is  often  that  has  been 
read  in  my  hearing,  but  I  am  afraid  it  will  not  be 
for  me  whatever/  and  he  swayed  himself  slightly 
as  he  spoke,  and  his  voice  was  full  of  pain. 


THE  FIRST  BLACK  ROCK  COMMUNION    143 

'The  minister  said  I  might  come,'  said  old 
Nelson,  earnestly  and  hopefully. 

'Ay,  but  you  are  not  Lachlan  Campbell,  and 
you  hef  not  had  his  privileges.  My  father  was 
a  godly  elder  in  the  Free  Church  of  Scotland, 
and  never  a  night  or  morning  but  we  took  the 
Books.' 

'Yes,  but  He  said  "any  man,"'  persisted 
Nelson,  putting  his  hand  on  Lachlan's  knee. 
But  Lachlan  shook  his  head. 

1  Dat  young  feller,'  said  Baptiste ;  '  wha's  hees 
nem,  heh  ? ' 

'  He  has  no  name.  It  is  just  a  parable,'  ex- 
plained Sandy. 

'  He 's  got  no  nem  ?  He 's  just  a  parom'ble  ? 
Das  no  young  feller  ? '  asked  Baptiste  anxiously ; 
'  das  mean  noting  ? ' 

Then  Nelson  took  him  in  hand  and  explained 
to  him  the  meaning,  while  Baptiste  listened  even 
more  eagerly,  ejaculating  softly, '  ah,  voil£  !  bon  ! 
by  gar!'  When  Nelson  had  finished  he  broke 
out,  'Dat  young  feller,  his  name  Baptiste,  heh? 
and  de  old  Fadder  he 's  le  bon  Dieu  ?  Bon !  das 
good  story  for  me.  How  you  go  back  ?  You  go 
to  de  pries'  ? ' 


144  BLACK  ROCK 

'  The  book  doesn't  say  priest  or  any  one  else,' 
said  Nelson.  '  You  go  back  in  yourself,  you 
see?' 

'  Non  ;  das  so,  sure  nuff.  Ah ! ' — as  if  a  light 
broke  in  upon  him — 'you  go  in  your  own  self. 
You  make  one  leetle  prayer.  You  say,  "  Le  bon 
Fadder,  oh !  I  want  come  back,  I  so  tire,  so 
hongree,  so  sorree  "  ?  He  say, "  Come  right  'long." 
Ah !  das  fuss-rate.  Nelson,  you  make  one  leetle 
prayer  for  Sandy  and  me.' 

And  Nelson  lifted  up  his  face  and  said : 
'  Father,  we  're  all  gone  far  away ;  we  have  spent 
all,  we  are  poor,  we  are  tired  of  it  all ;  we  want  to 
feel  different,  to  be  different ;  we  want  to  come 
back.  Jesus  came  to  save  us  from  our  sins  ;  and 
He  said  if  we  came  He  wouldn't  cast  us  out,  no 
matter  how  bad  we  were,  if  we  only  came  to 
Him.  Oh,  Jesus  Christ ' — and  his  old,  iron  face 
began  to  work,  and  two  big  tears  slowly  came 
from  under  his  eyelids — '  we  are  a  poor  lot,  and 
I  'm  the  worst  of  the  lot,  and  we  are  trying  to 
find  the  way.  Show  us  how  to  get  back. 
Amen.' 

'  Bon ! '  said  Baptiste.     '  Das  fetch  Him  sure ! ' 

Graeme  pulled  me  away,  and  without  a  word 


THE  FIRST  BLACK  ROCK  COMMUNION    145 

we  went  into  the  office  and  drew  up  to  the  little 
stove.  Graeme  was  greatly  moved. 

'Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  that?'  he 
asked.  '  Old  Nelson !  the  hardest,  savagest, 
toughest  old  sinner  in  the  camp,  on  his  knees 
before  a  lot  of  men  ! ' 

'  Before  God,'  I  could  not  help  saying,  for  the 
thing  seemed  very  real  to  me.  The  old  man 
evidently  felt  himself  talking  to  some  one. 

'Yes,  I  suppose  you're  right,'  said  Graeme 
doubtfully;  'but  there's  a  lot  of  stuff  I  can't 
swallow.' 

'When  you  take  medicine  you  don't  swallow 
the  bottle,'  I  replied,  for  his  trouble  was  not 
mine. 

'  If  I  were  sure  of  the  medicine,  I  wouldn't 
mind  the  bottle,  and  yet  it  acts  well  enough,'  he 
went  on.  'I  don't  mind  Lachlan  ;  he 's  a  Highland 
mystic,  and  has  visions,  and  Sandy's  almost  as 
bad,  and  Baptiste  is  an  impulsive  little  chap. 
Those  don't  count  much.  But  old  man  Nelson 
is  a  cool-blooded,  level-headed  old  fellow ;  has 
seen  a  lot  of  life,  too.  And  then  there 's  Craig 
He  has  a  better  head  than  I  have,  and  is  as 
hot-blooded,  and  yet  he  is  living  and  slaving 

K 


i46  BLACK  ROCK 

away  in  that  hole,  and  really  enjoys  it  There 
must  be  something  in  it* 

'Oh,  look  here,  Graeme,'  I  burst  out  im- 
patiently ;  '  what 's  the  use  of  your  talking  like 
that?  Of  course  there 's  something  in  it.  There 's 
everything  in  it  The  trouble  with  me  is  I  can't 
face  the  music.  It  calls  for  a  life  where  a  fellow 
must  go  in  for  straight,  steady  work,  self-denial, 
»nd  that  sort  of  thing ;  and  I  'm  too  Bohemian 
for  that,  and  too  lazy.  But  that  fellow  Craig 
makes  one  feel  horribly  uncomfortable.' 

Graeme  put  his  head  on  one  side,  and  examined 
me  curiously. 

'I  believe  you're  right  about  yourself.  You 
always  were  a  luxurious  beggar.  But  that 's  not 
where  it  catches  me.' 

We  sat  and  smoked  and  talked  of  other  things 
for  an  hour,  and  then  turned  in.  As  I  was 
dropping  off  I  was  roused  by  Graeme's  voice — 

'  Are  you  going  to  the  preparatory  service  on 
Friday  night  ? ' 

'  Don't  know,'  I  replied  rather  sleepily. 

'  I  say,  do  you  remember  the  preparatory 
service  at  home?'  There  was  something  in  his 
voice  that  set  me  wide  awake. 


THE  FIRST  BLACK  ROCK  COMMUNION    147 

'  Yes.  Rather  terrific,  wasn't  it  ?  But  I  always 
felt  better  after  it,'  I  replied. 

'To  me' — he  was  sitting  up  in  bed  now — 'to 
me  it  was  like  a  call  to  arms,  or  rather  like  a 
call  for  a  forlorn  hope.  None  but  volunteers 
wanted.  Do  you  remember  the  thrill  in  the  old 
governor's  voice  as  he  dared  any  but  the  right 
stuff  to  come  on  ? ' 

'  We  '11  go  in  on  Friday  night,'  I  said. 

And  so  we  did.  Sandy  took  a  load  of  men 
with  his  team,  and  Graeme  and  I  drove  in  the 
light  sleigh. 

The  meeting  was  in  the  church,  and  over  a 
hundred  men  were  present.  There  was  some 
singing  of  familiar  hymns  at  first,  and  then  Mr. 
Craig  read  the  same  story  as  we  had  heard  in 
the  stable,  that  most  perfect  of  all  parables,  the 
Prodigal  Son.  Baptiste  nudged  Sandy  in  delight, 
and  whispered  something,  but  Sandy  held  his 
face  so  absolutely  expressionless  that  Graeme 
was  moved  to  say — 

'Look  at  Sandy!  Did  you  ever  see  such  a 
graven  image  ?  Something  has  hit  him  hard.' 

The  men  were  held  fast  by  the  story.  The 
voice  of  the  reader,  low,  earnest,  and  thrilling 


148  BLACK  ROCK 

with  the  tender  pathos  of  the  tale,  carried  the 
words  to  our  hearts,  while  a  glance,  a  gesture,  a 
movement  of  the  body  gave  us  the  vision  of  it 
all  as  he  was  seeing  it. 

Then,  in  simplest  of  words,  he  told  us  what 
the  story  meant,  holding  us  the  while  with  eyes, 
and  voice,  and  gesture.  He  compelled  us  to 
scorn  the  gay,  heartless  selfishness  of  the  young 
fool  setting  forth  so  jauntily  from  the  broken 
home  ;  he  moved  our  pity  and  our  sympathy  for 
the  young  profligate,  who,  broken  and  deserted, 
had  still  pluck  enough  to  determine  to  work  his 
way  back,  and  who,  in  utter  desperation,  at  last 
gave  it  up ;  and  then  he  showed  us  the  home- 
coming— the  ragged,  heart -sick  tramp,  with 
hesitating  steps,  stumbling  along  the  dusty  road, 
and  then  the  rush  of  the  old  father,  his  garments 
fluttering,  and  his  voice  heard  in  broken  cries. 
I  see  and  hear  it  all  now,  whenever  the  words 
are  read. 

He  announced  the  hymn, '  Just  as  I  am,'  read 
the  first  verse,  and  then  went  on  :  '  There  you  are, 
men,  every  man  of  you,  somewhere  on  the  road. 
Some  of  you  are  too  lazy ' — here  Graeme  nudged 
me — '  and  some  of  you  haven't  got  enough  yet  of 


THE  FIRST  BLACK  ROCK  COMMUNION    149 

the  far  country  to  come  back.  May  there  be  a 
chance  for  you  when  you  want  to  come !  Men, 
you  all  want  to  go  back  home,  and  when  you  go 
you  '11  want  to  put  on  your  soft  clothes,  and  you 
won't  go  till  you  can  go  in  good  style ;  but  where 
did  the  prodigal  get  his  good  clothes?'  Quick 
came  the  answer  in  Baptiste's  shrill  voice — 

'  From  de  old  fadder ! ' 

No  one  was  surprised,  and  the  minister  went 
on — 

'  Yes !  and  that 's  where  we  must  get  the  good, 
clean  heart,  the  good,  clean,  brave  heart,  from  our 
Father.  Don't  wait,  but,  just  as  you  are,  come. 
Sing/ 

They  sang,  not  loud,  as  they  would  '  Stand 
Up,'  or  even  'The  Sweet  By  and  By,'  but  in 
voices  subdued,  holding  down  the  power  in 
them. 

After  the  singing,  Craig  stood  a  moment  gazing 
down  at  the  men,  and  then  said  quietly — 

'  Any  man  want  to  come  ?  You  all  might 
come.  We  all  must  come.'  Then,  sweeping  his 
arm  over  the  audience,  and  turning  half  round  as 
if  to  move  off,  he  cried,  in  a  voice  that  thrilled  to 
the  heart's  core — 


ISO  BLACK  ROCK 

'  Oh !  come  on  !     Let 's  go  back ! ' 

The  effect  was  overpowering.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  the  whole  company  half  rose  to  their 
feet  Of  the  prayer  that  immediately  followed, 
I  only  caught  the  opening  sentence, '  Father,  we 
are  coming  back,'  for  my  attention  was  suddenly 
absorbed  by  Abe,  the  stage-driver,  who  was 
sitting  next  me.  I  could  hear  him  swearing 
approval  and  admiration,  saying  to  himself — 

1  Ain't  he  a  clinker !  I  '11  be  gee-whizzly-gol- 
dusted  if  he  ain't  a  malleable-iron-double-back- 
action  self-adjusting  corn  -  cracker.'  And  the 
prayer  continued  to  be  punctuated  with  like 
admiring  and  even  more  sulphurous  expletives. 
It  was  an  incongruous  medley.  The  earnest, 
reverent  prayer,  and  the  earnest,  admiring  pro- 
fanity, rendered  chaotic  one's  ideas  of  religious 
propriety.  The  feelings  in  both  were  akin ;  the 
method  of  expression  somewhat  widely  diverse. 

After  prayer,  Craig's  tone  changed  utterly.  In 
a  quiet,  matter-of-fact,  businesslike  way  he  stated 
his  plan  of  organisation,  and  called  for  all  who 
wished  to  join  to  remain  after  the  benediction. 
Some  fifty  men  were  left,  among  them  Nelson, 
Sandy,  Lachlan  Campbell,  Baptiste,  Shaw,  Nixon, 


THE  FIRST  BLACK  ROCK  COMMUNION    151 

Geordie,  and  Billy  Breen,  who  tried  to  get  out, 
but  was  held  fast  by  Geordie. 

Graeme  was  passing  out,  but  I  signed  him  to 
remain,  saying  that  I  wished  'to  see  the  thing 
out.'  Abe  sat  still  beside  me,  swearing  disgustedly 
at  the  fellows  'who  were  going  back  on  the 
preacher.'  Craig  appeared  amazed  at  the  number 
of  men  remaining,  and  seemed  to  fear  that  some- 
thing was  wrong.  He  put  before  them  the  terms 
of  discipleship,  as  the  Master  put  them  to  the 
eager  scribe,  and  he  did  not  make  them  easy. 
He  pictured  the  kind  of  work  to  be  done,  and  the 
kind  of  men  needed  for  the  doing  of  it  Abe 
grew  uneasy  as  the  minister  went  on  to  describe 
the  completeness  of  the  surrender,  the  intensity 
of  the  loyalty  demanded. 

'  That  knocks  me  out,  I  reckon,'  he  muttered, 
in  a  disappointed  tone ;  '  I  ain't  up  to  that  grade.' 
And  as  Craig  described  the  heroism  called  for, 
the  magnificence  of  the  fight,  the  worth  of  it, 
and  the  outcome  of  it  all,  Abe  ground  out: 
1 1  '11  be  blanked  if  I  wouldn't  like  to  take  a 
hand,  but  I  guess  I  'm  not  in  it.'  Craig  finished 
by  saying — 

'  I  want  to  put  this  quite  fairly.     It  is  not  any 


i5*  BLACK  ROCK 

league  of  mine  ;  you  're  not  joining  my  company  ; 
it  is  no  easy  business,  and  it  is  for  your  whole  life. 
What  do  you  say?  Do  I  put  it  fairly?  What 
do  you  say,  Nelson  ? ' 

Nelson  rose  slowly,  and  with  difficulty  began — 

'  I  may  be  all  wrong,  but  you  made,  it  easier 
for  me,  Mr.  Craig.  You  said  He  would  see  me 
through,  or  I  should  never  have  risked  it.  Perhaps 
I  am  wrong,'  and  the  old  man  looked  troubled. 
Craig  sprang  up. 

'  No !  no !  Thank  God,  no  1  He  will  see  every 
man  through  who  will  trust  his  life  to  Him. 
Every  man,  no  matter  how  tough  he  is,  no 
matter  how  broken.' 

Then  Nelson  straightened  himself  up  and 
said — 

'Well,  sir!  I  believe  a  lot  of  the  men  would 
go  in  for  this  if  they  were  dead  sure  they  would 
get  through.' 

'  Get  through  ! '  said  Craig ;  '  never  a  fear  of  it 
It  is  a  hard  fight,  a  long  fight,  a  glorious  fight,' 
throwing  up  his  head,  'but  every  man  who  squarely 
trusts  Him,  and  takes  Him  as  Lord  and  Master, 
comes  out  victor ! ' 

'  Bon ! '   said  Baptiste,     '  Das  me.      You  tink 


THE  FIRST  BLACK  ROCK  COMMUNION    153 

He's  take  me  in  dat  fight,  M'sieu  Craig,  heh?* 
His  eyes  were  blazing. 

'  You  mean  it  ? '  asked  Craig  almost  sternly. 

1  Yes !  by  gar ! '  said  the  little  Frenchman 
eagerly. 

'  Hear  what  He  says,  then ' ;  and  Craig,  turning 
over  the  leaves  of  his  Testament,  read  solemnly 
the  words,  '  Swear  not  at  all.' 

'  Non  !  For  sure !  Den  I  stop  him,'  replied 
Baptiste  earnestly,  and  Craig  wrote  his  name 
down. 

Poor  Abe  looked  amazed  and  distressed,  rose 
slowly,  and  saying,  'That  jars  my  whisky  jug,' 
passed  out.  There  was  a  slight  movement  near 
the  organ,  and  glancing  up  I  saw  Mrs.  Mavor 
put  her  face  hastily  in  her  hands.  The  men's 
faces  were  anxious  and  troubled,  and  Nelson  said 
in  a  voice  that  broke — 

'  Tell  them  what  you  told  me,  sir.'  But  Craig 
was  troubled  too,  and  replied,  'You  tell  them, 
Nelson ! '  and  Nelson  told  the  men  the  story  of 
how  he  began  just  five  weeks  ago.  The  old  man's 
voice  steadied  as  he  went  on,  and  he  grew  eager 
as  he  told  how  he  had  been  helped,  and  how  the 
world  was  all  different,  and  his  heart  seemed  new. 


iS4  BLACK  ROCK 

He  spoke  of  his  Friend  as  if  He  were  some  one 
that  could  be  seen  out  at  camp,  that  he  knew 
well,  and  met  every  day. 

But  as  he  tried  to  say  how  deeply  he  regretted 
that  he  had  not  known  all  this  years  before,  the 
old,  hard  face  began  to  quiver,  and  the  steady 
voice  wavered.  Then  he  pulled  himself  together, 
and  said — 

'  I  begin  to  feel  sure  He  '11  pull  me  through — 
me !  the  hardest  man  in  the  mountains  1  So  don't 
you  fear,  boys.  He 's  all  right.' 

Then  the  men  gave  in  their  names,  one  by  one. 
When  it  came  to  Geordie's  turn,  he  gave  his 
name — 

'  George  Crawford,  frae  the  pairish  o'  Kilsyth, 
Scotland,  an'  ye  '11  juist  pit  doon  the  lad's  name, 
Maister  Craig ;  he 's  a  wee  bit  fashed  vyi'  the  dis- 
coorse,  but  he  has  the  root  o'  the  maitter  in  him, 
I  doot'  And  so  Billy  Breen's  name  went  down. 

When  the  meeting  was  over,  thirty-eight  names 
stood  upon  the  communion  roll  of  the  Black  Rock 
Presbyterian  Church ;  and  it  will  ever  be  one  of 
the  regrets  of  my  life  that  neither  Graeme's  name 
nor  my  own  appeared  on  that  roll.  And  two 
days  after,  when  the  cup  went  round  on  that  first 


THE  FIRST  BLACK  ROCK  COMMUNION    155 

Communion  Sabbath,  from  Nelson  to  Sandy,  and 
from  Sandy  to  Baptiste,  and  so  on  down  the  line 
to  Billy  Breen  and  Mrs.  Mavor,  and  then  to  Abe, 
the  driver,  whom  she  had  by  her  own  mystic 
power  lifted  into  hope  and  faith,  I  felt  all  the 
shame  and  pain  of  a  traitor  ;  and  I  believe  in  my 
heart  that  the  fire  of  that  pain  and  shame  burned 
something  of  the  selfish  cowardice  out  of  me,  and 
that  it  is  burning  still. 

The  last  words  of  the  minister,  in  the  short 
address  after  the  table  had  been  served,  were  low, 
and  sweet,  and  tender,  but  they  were  words  of 
high  courage  ;  and  before  he  had  spoken  them  all, 
the  men  were  listening  with  shining  eyes,  and 
when  they  rose  to  sing  the  closing  hymn  they 
stood  straight  and  stiff  like  soldiers  on  parade. 

And  I  wished  more  than  ever  I  were  one  of 
them. 


THE  BREAKING  OF  THE 
LEAGUE 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUB 

THERE  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  nature 
designed  me  for  a  great  painter.  A  railway 
director  interfered  with  that  design  of  nature,  as 
he  has  with  many  another  of  hers,  and  by  the 
transmission  of  an  order  for  mountain  pieces  by 
the  dozen,  together  with  a  cheque  so  large  that  I 
feared  there  was  some  mistake,  he  determined  me 
to  be  an  illustrator  and  designer  for  railway  and 
like  publications.  I  do  not  like  these  people 
ordering  'by  the  dozea*  Why  should  they  not 
consider  an  artist's  finer  feelings  ?  Perhaps  they 
cannot  understand  them  ;  but  they  understand 
my  pictures,  and  I  understand  their  cheques,  and 
there  we  are  quits.  But  so  it  came  that  I  remained 
in  Black  Rock  long  enough  to  witness  the  breaking 
of  the  League. 

Looking  back  upon  the  events  of  that  night 
from  the  midst  of  gentle  and  decent  surroundings, 


160  BLACK  ROCK 

they  now  seem  strangely  unreal,  but  to  me  then 
they  appeared  only  natural. 

It  was  the  Good  Friday  ball  that  wrecked  the 
League.  For  the  fact  that  the  promoters  of  the 
ball  determined  that  it  should  be  a  ball  rather 
than  a  dance  was  taken  by  the  League  men  as  a 
concession  to  the  new  public  opinion  in  favour  of 
respectability  created  by  the  League.  And  when 
the  manager's  patronage  had  been  secured  (they 
failed  to  get  Mrs.  Mavor's),  and  it  was  further 
announced  that,  though  held  in  the  Black  Rock 
Hotel  ballroom — indeed,  there  was  no  other  place 
— refreshments  suited  to  the  peculiar  tastes  of 
League  men  would  be  provided,  it  was  felt  to  be 
almost  a  necessity  that  the  League  should  approve, 
should  indeed  welcome,  this  concession  to  the 
public  opinion  in  favour  of  respectability  created 
by  the  League. 

There  were  extreme  men  on  both  sides,  of 
course.  'Idaho'  Jack,  professional  gambler,  for 
instance,  frankly  considered  that  the  whole  town 
was  going  to  unmentionable  depths  of  propriety. 
The  organisation  of  the  League  was  regarded  by 
him,  and  by  many  others,  as  a  sad  retrograde 
towards  the  bondage  of  the  ancient  and  dying 


THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE     161 

East ;  and  that  he  could  not  get  drunk  when  and 
where  he  pleased,  '  Idaho,'  as  he  was  called, 
regarded  as  a  personal  grievance. 

But  Idaho  was  never  enamoured  of  the  social 
ways  of  Black  Rock.  He  was  shocked  and  dis- 
gusted when  he  discovered  that  a  '  gun '  was 
decreed  by  British  law  to  be  an  unnecessary 
adornment  of  a  card-table.  The  manner  of  his 
discovery  must  have  been  interesting  to  behold. 

It  is  said  that  Idaho  was  industriously  pursuing 
his  avocation  in  Slavin's,  with  his  'gun*  lying 
upon  the  card-table  convenient  to  his  hand,  when 
in  walked  policeman  Jackson,  her  Majesty's  sole 
representative  in  the  Black  Rock  district.  Jack- 
son, '  Stonewall '  Jackson,  or  '  Stonewall,'  as  he 
was  called  for  obvious  reasons,  after  watching  the 
game  for  a  few  moments,  gently  tapped  the  pistol 
and  asked  what  he  used  this  for. 

'  I  '11  show  you  in  two  holy  minutes  if  you 
don't  light  out,'  said  Idaho,  hardly  looking  up, 
but  very  angrily,  for  the  luck  was  against  him. 
But  Jackson  tapped  upon  the  table  and  said 
sweetly — 

1  You  're  a  stranger  here.  You  ought  to  get  a 
guide-book  and  post  yourself.  Now,  the  boys 

L 


i6a  BLACK  ROCK 

know  I  don't  interfere  with  an  innocent  little 
game,  but  there  is  a  regulation  against  playing  it 
with  guns ;  so,'  he  added  even  more  sweetly,  but 
fastening  Idaho  with  a  look  from  his  steel-grey 
eyes, '  I  '11  just  take  charge  of  this/  picking  up  the 
revolver ;  '  it  might  go  off.' 

Idaho's  rage,  great  as  it  was,  was  quite  swal- 
lowed up  in  his  amazed  disgust  at  the  state  of 
society  that  would  permit  such  an  outrage  upon 
personal  liberty.  He  was  quite  unable  to  play 
any  more  that  evening,  and  it  took  several  drinks 
all  round  to  restore  him  to  articulate  speech. 
The  rest  of  the  night  was  spent  in  retailing  for 
his  instruction  stories  of  the  ways  of  Stonewall 
Jackson. 

Idaho  bought  a  new  '  gun,'  but  he  wore  it '  in 
his  clothes,'  and  used  it  chiefly  in  the  pastime  of 
shooting  out  the  lights  or  in  picking  off  the  heels 
from  the  boys'  boots  while  a  stag  dance  was  in 
progress  in  Slavin's.  But  in  Stonewall's  presence 
Idaho  was  a  most  correct  citizen.  Stonewall  he 
could  understand  and  appreciate.  He  was  six 
feet  three,  and  had  an  eye  of  unpleasant  penetra- 
tion. But  this  new  feeling  in  the  community  for 
respectability  he  could  neither  understand  nor 


THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE     163 

endure.  The  League  became  the  object  of  his 
indignant  aversion,  and  the  League  men  of  his 
contempt.  He  had  many  sympathisers,  and  fre- 
quent were  the  assaults  upon  the  newly-born 
sobriety  of  Billy  Breen  and  others  of  the  League. 
But  Geordie's  watchful  care  and  Mrs.  Mayor's 
steady  influence,  together  with  the  loyal  co-opera- 
tion of  the  League  men,  kept  Billy  safe  so  far. 
Nixon,  too,  was  a  marked  man.  It  may  be  that 
he  carried  himself  with  unnecessary  jauntiness  to- 
ward Slavin  and  Idaho,  saluting  the  former  with, 
'  Awful  dry  weather !  eh,  Slavin  ? '  and  the  latter 
with,  '  Hello,  old  sport !  how 's  times  ? '  causing 
them  to  swear  deeply ;  and,  as  it  turned  out,  to 
do  more  than  swear. 

But  on  the  whole  the  anti-League  men  were  in 
favour  of  a  respectable  ball,  and  most  of  the 
League  men  determined  to  show  their  apprecia- 
tion of  the  concession  of  the  committee  to  the 
principles  of  the  League  in  the  important  matter 
of  refreshments  by  attending  in  force. 

Nixon  would  not  go.  However  jauntily  he 
might  talk,  he  could  not  trust  himself,  as  he  said, 
where  whisky  was  flowing,  for  it  got  into  his  nose 
Mike  a  fish-hook  into  a  salmon.'  He  was  from 


1 64  BLACK  ROCK 

Nova  Scotia.  For  like  reason,  Vernon  Winton, 
the  young  Oxford  fellow,  would  not  go.  When 
they  chaffed,  his  lips  grew  a  little  thinner, 
and  the  colour  deepened  in  his  handsome  face, 
but  he  went  on  his  way.  Geordie  despised  the 
1  hale  hypothick  '  as  a '  daft  ploy,'  and  the  spend- 
ing of  five  dollars  upon  a  ticket  he  considered  a 
1  sinfu'  waste  o'  guid  siller ' ;  and  he  warned  Billy 
against  '  coontenancin'  ony  sic  redeeklus  non- 
sense,' 

But  no  one  expected  Billy  to  go ;  although  the 
last  two  months  he  had  done  wonders  for  his 
personal  appearance,  and  for  his  position  in  the 
social  scale  as  well.  They  all  knew  what  a  fight 
he  was  making,  and  esteemed  him  accordingly. 
How  well  I  remember  the  pleased  pride  in  his 
face  when  he  told  me  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
committee's  urgent  request  that  he  should  join 
the  orchestra  with  his  'cello !  It  was  not  simply 
that  his  'cello  was  his  joy  and  pride,  but  he 
felt  it  to  be  a  recognition  of  his  return  to 
respectability. 

I  have  often  wondered  how  things  combine  at 
times  to  a  man's  destruction. 

Had  Mr.  Craig  not  been  away  at  the  Landing 


THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE     165 

week,  had  Geordie  not  been  on  the  night- 
shift,  had  Mrs.  Mavor  not  been  so  occupied  with 
the  care  of  her  sick  child,  it  may  be  Billy  might 
have  been  saved  his  fall. 

The  anticipation  of  the  ball  stirred  Black  Rock 
and  the  camps  with  a  thrill  of  expectant  delight. 
Nowadays,  when  I  find  myself  forced  to  leave 
my  quiet  smoke  in  my  studio  after  dinner  at 
the  call  of  some  social  engagement  which  I  have 
failed  to  elude,  I  groan  at  my  hard  lot,  and  I 
wonder  as  I  look  back  and  remember  the  plea- 
surable anticipation  with  which  I  viewed  the 
approaching  ball.  But  I  do  not  wonder  now  any 
more  than  I  did  then  at  the  eager  delight  of  the 
men  who  for  seven  days  in  the  week  swung  their 
picks  up  in  the  dark  breasts  of  the  mines,  or  who 
chopped  and  sawed  among  the  solitary  silences 
of  the  great  forests.  Any  break  in  the  long  and 
weary  monotony  was  welcome ;  what  mattered 
the  cost  or  consequence!  To  the  rudest  and 
least  cultured  of  them  the  sameness  of  the  life 
must  have  been  hard  to  bear ;  but  what  it  was 
to  men  who  had  seen  life  in  its  most  cultured 
and  attractive  forms  I  fail  to  imagine.  From 
the  mine,  black  and  foul,  to  the  shack,  bare, 


1 66  BLACK  ROCK 

cheerless,  and  sometimes  hideously  repulsive,  life 
swung  in  heart-grinding  monotony  till  the  long- 
ing for  a  '  big  drink '  or  some  other  '  big  break ' 
became  too  great  to  bear. 

It  was  well  on  towards  evening  when  Sandy's 
four-horse  team,  with  a  load  of  men  from  the 
woods,  came  swinging  round  the  curves  of  the 
mountain -road  and  down  the  street.  A  gay 
crowd  they  were  with  their  bright,  brown  faces 
and  hearty  voices ;  and  in  ten  minutes  the  whole 
street  seemed  alive  with  lumbermen — they  had  a 
faculty  of  spreading  themselves  so.  After  night 
fell  the  miners  came  down  'done  up  slick,'  for 
this  was  a  great  occasion,  and  they  must  be  up 
to  it.  The  manager  appeared  in  evening  dress ; 
but  this  was  voted  '  too  giddy '  by  the  majority. 

As  Graeme  and  I  passed  up  to  the  Black  Rock 
Hotel,  in  the  large  store-room  of  which  the  ball 
was  to  be  held,  we  met  old  man  Nelson  looking 
very  grave. 

4  Going,  Nelson,  aren't  you  ? '  I  said. 

1  Yes,'  he  answered  slowly ; '  I  '11  drop  in,  though 
I  don't  like  the  look  of  things  much.' 

'What's  the  matter,  Nelson?'  asked  Graeme 
cheerily.  '  There 's  no  funeral  on.1 


THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE     167 

*  Perhaps  not,'  replied  Nelson, '  but  I  wish  Mr. 
Craig  were  home.'  And  then  he  added, '  There 's 
Idaho  and  Slavin  together,  and  you  may  bet  the 
devil  isn't  far  off.' 

But  Graeme  laughed  at  his  suspicion,  and  we 
passed  on.  The  orchestra  was  tuning  up.  There 
were  two  violins,  a  concertina,  and  the  'cello. 
Billy  Breen  was  lovingly  fingering  his  instrument, 
now  and  then  indulging  himself  in  a  little  snatch 
of  some  air  that  came  to  him  out  of  his  happier 
past.  He  looked  perfectly  delighted,  and  as  I 
paused  to  listen  he  gave  me  a  proud  glance 
out  of  his  deep,  little,  blue  eyes,  and  went  on 
playing  softly  to  himself.  Presently  Shaw  came 
along. 

'That's  good,  Billy/  he  called  out.  'You've 
got  the  trick  yet,  I  see.' 

But  Billy  only  nodded  and  went  on  playing. 

'  Where 's  Nixon  ? '  I  asked. 

'Gone  to  bed,'  said  Shaw,  'and  I  am  glad  of 
it.  He  finds  that  the  safest  place  on  pay-day 
afternoon.  The  boys  don't  bother  him  there.' 

The  dancing-room  was  lined  on  two  sides  with 
beer-barrels  and  whisky-kegs ;  at  one  end  the 
orchestra  sat,  at  the  other  was  a  table  with 


1 68  BLACK  ROCK 

refreshments,  where  the  'soft  drinks'  might  be 
had.  Those  who  wanted  anything  else  might 
pass  through  a  short  passage  into  the  bar  just 
behind. 

This  was  evidently  a  superior  kind  of  ball,  for 
the  men  kept  on  their  coats,  and  went  through 
the  various  figures  with  faces  of  unnatural 
solemnity.  But  the  strain  upon  their  feelings 
was  quite  apparent,  and  it  became  a  question 
how  long  it  could  be  maintained.  As  the  trips 
through  the  passage-way  became  more  frequent 
the  dancing  grew  in  vigour  and  hilarity,  until  by 
the  time  supper  was  announced  the  stiffness  had 
sufficiently  vanished  to  give  no  further  anxiety 
to  the  committee. 

But  the  committee  had  other  cause  for  concern, 
inasmuch  as  after  supper  certain  of  the  miners 
appeared  with  their  coats  off,  and  proceeded  to 
'  knock  the  knots  out  of  the  floor '  in  break-down 
dances  of  extraordinary  energy.  These,  however, 
were  beguiled  into  the  bar-room  and  '  filled  up '  for 
safety,  for  the  committee  were  determined  that 
the  respectability  of  the  ball  should  be  preserved 
to  the  end.  Their  reputation  was  at  stake,  not 
in  Black  Rock  only,  but  at  the  Landing  as  well, 


THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE     169 

from  which  most  of  the  ladies  had  come ;  and 
to  be  shamed  in  the  presence  of  the  Landing 
people  could  not  be  borne.  Their  difficulties 
seemed  to  be  increasing,  for  at  this  point  some- 
thing seemed  to  go  wrong  with  the  orchestra. 
The  'cello  appeared  to  be  wandering  aimlessly 
up  and  down  the  scale,  occasionally  picking  up 
the  tune  with  animation,  and  then  dropping  it. 
As  Billy  saw  me  approaching,  he  drew  himself 
up  with  great  solemnity,  gravely  winked  at  me, 
and  said — 

'  Shlipped  a  cog,  Mishter  Connor !  Mosh  hun- 
fortunate !  Beauchiful  hinstrument,  but  shlips  a 
cog.  Mosh  hunfortunate  ! ' 

And  he  wagged  his  little  head  sagely,  playing  all 
the  while  for  dear  life,  now  second  and  now  lead. 

Poor  Billy  1  I  pitied  him,  but  I  thought  chiefly 
of  the  beautiful,  eager  face  that  leaned  towards 
him  the  night  the  League  was  made,  and  of  the 
bright  voice  that  said,  'You'll  sign  with  me, 
Billy?'  and  it  seemed  to  me  a  cruel  deed  to 
make  him  lose  his  grip  of  life  and  hope ;  for  this 
is  what  the  pledge  meant  to  him. 

While  I  was  trying  to  get  Billy  away  to  some 
safe  place,  I  heard  a  great  shouting  in  the 


170  BLACK  ROCK 

direction  of  the  bar,  followed  by  trampling  and 
scuffling  of  feet  in  the  passage-way.  Suddenly 
a  man  burst  through,  crying — 

'  Let  me  go !  Stand  back !  I  know  what  I  'm 
about ! ' 

It  was  Nixon,  dressed  in  his  best ;  black  clothes, 
blue  shirt,  red  tie,  looking  handsome  enough,  but 
half-drunk  and  wildly  excited.  The  Highland 
Fling  competition  was  on  at  the  moment,  and 
Angus  Campbell,  Lachlan's  brother,  was  repre- 
senting the  lumber  camps  in  the  contest.  Nixon 
looked  on  approvingly  for  a  few  moments,  then 
with  a  quick  movement  he  seized  the  little  High- 
lander, swung  him  in  his  powerful  arms  clean  off 
the  floor,  and  deposited  him  gently  upon  a  beer- 
barrel.  Then  he  stepped  into  the  centre  of  the 
room,  bowed  to  the  judges,  and  began  a  sailor's 
hornpipe. 

The  committee  were  perplexed,  but  after 
deliberation  they  decided  to  humour  the  new 
competitor,  especially  as  they  knew  that  Nixon 
with  whisky  in  him  was  unpleasant  to  cross. 

Lightly  and  gracefully  he  went  through  his 
steps,  the  men  crowding  in  from  the  bar  to 
admire,  for  Nixon  was  famed  for  his  hornpipe. 


THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE     171 

But  when,  after  the  hornpipe,  he  proceeded  to 
execute  a  clog-dance,  garnished  with  acrobatic 
feats,  the  committee  interfered.  There  were 
cries  of  '  Put  him  out ! '  and  '  Let  him  alone  ! 
Go  on,  Nixon ! '  And  Nixon  hurled  back  into 
the  crowd  two  of  the  committee  who  had  laid 
remonstrating  hands  upon  him,  and,  standing 
in  the  open  centre,  cried  out  scornfully — 

1  Put  me  out !  Put  me  out  1  Certainly  !  Help 
yourselves!  Don't  mind  me!1  Then  grinding 
his  teeth,  so  that  I  heard  them  across  the 
room,  he  added  with  savage  deliberation,  '  If 
any  man  lays  a  finger  on  me,  I'll — I'll  eat  his 
£iver  cold.' 

He  stood  for  a  few  moments  glaring  round 
upon  the  company,  and  then  strode  toward  the 
bar,  followed  by  the  crowd  wildly  yelling.  The 
ball  was  forthwith  broken  up.  I  looked  around 
for  Billy,  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 
Graeme  touched  my  arm — 

'There's  going  to  be  something  of  a  time,  so 
just  keep  your  eyes  skinned.' 

1  What  are  you  going  to  do  ? '  I  asked 

'  Do  ?  Keep  myself  beautifully  out  of  trouble, 
he  replied. 


i;a  BLACK  ROCK 

In  a  few  moments  the  crowd  came  surging 
back  headed  by  Nixon,  who  was  waving  a 
whisky-bottle  over  his  head  and  yelling  as  one 
possessed. 

'  Hello ! '  exclaimed  Graeme  softly,  '  I  begin 
to  see.  Look  there ! ' 

'  What 's  up  ? '  I  asked. 

'  You  see  Idaho  and  Slavin  and  their  pets/  he 
replied. 

'They've  got  poor  Nixon  in  tow.  Idaho  is 
rather  nasty,'  he  added,  '  but  I  think  I  '11  take 
a  hand  in  this  game ;  I  've  seen  some  of  Idaho's 
work  before.' 

The  scene  was  one  quite  strange  to  me,  and 
was  wild  beyond  description.  A  hundred  men 
filled  the  room.  Bottles  were  passed  from  hand 
to  hand,  and  men  drank  their  fill.  Behind  the 
refreshment-tables  stood  the  hotelman  and  his 
barkeeper  with  their  coats  off  and  sleeves  rolled 
up  to  the  shoulder,  passing  out  bottles,  and 
drawing  beer  and  whisky  from  two  kegs 
hoisted  up  for  that  purpose.  Nixon  was  in  his 
glory.  It  was  his  night.  Every  man  was  to  get 
drunk  at  his  expense,  he  proclaimed,  flinging 
down  bills  upon  the  table.  Near  him  were  some 


THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE     173 

League  men  he  was  treating  liberally,  and  never 
far  away  were  Idaho  and  Slavin  passing  bottles, 
but  evidently  drinking  little. 

I  followed  Graeme,  not  feeling  too  comfortable, 
for  this  sort  of  thing  was  new  to  me,  but  admiring 
the  cool  assurance  with  which  he  made  his  way 
through  the  crowd  that  swayed  and  yelled  and 
swore  and  laughed  in  a  most  disconcerting 
manner. 

'  Hello ! '  shouted  Nixon  as  he  caught  sight  of 
Graeme.  '  Here  you  are ! '  passing  him  a  bottle. 
'You're  a  knocker,  a  double-handed  front-door 
knocker.  You  polished  off  old  whisky-soak  here, 
old  demijohn/  pointing  to  Slavin,  '  and  I  '11  lay 
five  to  one  we  can  lick  any  blankety  blank 
thieves  in  the  crowd,'  and  he  held  up  a  roll  of 
bills. 

But  Graeme  proposed  that  he  should  give  the 
hornpipe  again,  and  the  floor  was  cleared  at  once, 
for  Nixon's  hornpipe  was  very  popular,  and  to- 
night, of  course,  was  in  high  favour.  In  the 
midst  of  his  dance  Nixon  stopped  short,  his 
arms  dropped  to  his  side,  his  face  had  a  look 
of  fear,  of  horror. 

There,  before    him,    in   his  riding-cloak    and 


i74  BLACK  ROCK 

boots,  with  his  whip  in  his  hand  as  he  had  come 
from  his  ride,  stood  Mr.  Craig.  His  face  was 
pallid,  and  his  dark  eyes  were  blazing  with 
fierce  light  As  Nixon  stopped,  Craig  stepped 
forward  to  him,  and  sweeping  his  eyes  round  upon 
the  circle  he  said  in  tones  intense  with  scorn — 

'You  cowards!  You  get  a  man  where  he's 
weak !  Cowards !  you  'd  damn  his  soul  for  his 
money ! ' 

There  was  dead  silence,  and  Craig,  lifting  his 
hat,  said  solemnly — 

'  May  God  forgive  you  this  night's  work ! ' 

Then,  turning  to  Nixon,  and  throwing  his  arm 
over  his  shoulder,  he  said  in  a  voice  broken  and 
husky — 

'  Come  on,  Nixon !  we  '11  go  ! ' 

Idaho  made  a  motion  as  if  to  stop  him, 
but  Graeme  stepped  quickly  forward  and  said 
sharply,  'Make  way  there,  can't  you?'  and 
the  crowd  fell  back  and  we  four  passed 
through,  Nixon  walking  as  in  a  dream,  with 
Craig's  arm  about  him.  Down  the  street  we 
went  in  silence,  and  on  to  Craig's  shack,  where 
we  found  old  man  Nelson,  with  the  fire  blazing, 
and  strong  coffee  steaming  on  the  stove.  It  was 


THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE     175 

he  that  had  told  Craig,  on  his  arrival  from  the 
Landing,  of  Nixon's  fall. 

There  was  nothing  of  reproach,  but  only 
gentlest  pity,  in  tone  and  touch  as  Craig  placed 
the  half-drunk,  dazed  man  in  his  easy-chair, 
took  off  his  boots,  brought  him  his  own  slippers, 
and  gave  him  coffee.  Then,  as  his  stupor  began 
to  overcome  him,  Craig  put  him  in  his  own 
bed,  and  came  forth  with  a  face  written  over 
with  grief. 

'  Don't  mind,  old  chap,'  said  Graeme  kindly. 

But  Craig  looked  at  him  without  a  word,  and, 
throwing  himself  into  a  chair,  put  his  face  in  his 
hands.  As  we  sat  there  in  silence  the  door  was 
suddenly  pushed  open  and  in  walked  Abe  Baker 
with  the  words, '  Where  is  Nixon  ? '  and  we  told 
him  where  he  was.  We  were  still  talking  when 
again  a  tap  came  to  the  door,  and  Shaw  came 
in  looking  much  disturbed. 

1  Did  you  hear  about  Nixon  ? '  he  asked.  We 
told  him  what  we  knew. 

'  But  did  you  hear  how  they  got  him  ? '  he 
asked,  excitedly. 

As  he  told  us  the  tale,  the  men  stood  listening, 
with  faces  growing  hard. 


176  BLACK  ROCK 

It  appeared  that  after  the  making  of  the 
League  the  Black  Rock  Hotel  man  had  bet 
Idaho  one  hundred  to  fifty  that  Nixon  could 
not  be  got  to  drink  before  Easter.  All  Idaho's 
schemes  had  failed,  and  now  he  had  only  three 
days  in  which  to  win  his  money,  and  the  ball 
was  his  last  chance.  Here  again  he  was  balked, 
for  Nixon,  resisting  all  entreaties,  barred  his 
shack  door  and  went  to  bed  before  nightfall, 
according  to  his  invariable  custom  on  pay-days. 
At  midnight  some  of  Idaho's  men  came  battering 
at  the  door  for  admission,  which  Nixon  reluctantly 
granted.  For  half  an  hour  they  used  every  art 
of  persuasion  to  induce  him  to  go  down  to  the 
ball,  the  glorious  success  of  which  was  glowingly 
depicted ;  but  Nixon  remained  immovable,  and 
they  took  their  departure,  baffled  and  cursing. 
In  two  hours  they  returned  drunk  enough  to 
be  dangerous,  kicked  at  the  door  in  vain,  finally 
gained  entrance  through  the  window,  hauled 
Nixon  out  of  bed,  and,  holding  a  glass  of 
whisky  to  his  lips,  bade  him  drink.  But  he 
knocked  the  glass  away,  spilling  the  liquor  over 
himself  and  the  bed. 

It  was  drink  or  fight,  and  Nixon  was  ready  to 


THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  LEAGUE     177 

fight ;  but  after  parley  they  had  a  drink  all 
round,  and  fell  to  persuasion  again.  The  night 
was  cold,  and  poor  Nixon  sat  shivering  on  the 
edge  of  his  bed.  If  he  would  take  one  drink  they 
would  leave  him  alone.  He  need  not  show  him- 
self so  stiff.  The  whisky  fumes  filled  his  nostrils. 
If  one  drink  would  get  them  off,  surely  that 
was  better  than  fighting  and  killing  some  one  or 
getting  killed.  He  hesitated,  yielded,  drank  his 
glass.  They  sat  about  him  amiably  drinking, 
and  lauding  him  as  a  fine  fellow  after  all.  One 
more  glass  before  they  left.  Then  Nixon  rose, 
dressed  himself,  drank  all  that  was  left  of  the 
bottle,  put  his  money  in  his  pocket,  and  came 
down  to  the  dance,  wild  with  his  old-time  mad- 
ness, reckless  of  faith  and  pledge,  forgetful  of 
home,  wife,  babies,  his  whole  being  absorbed  in 
one  great  passion — to  drink  and  drink  and  drink 
till  he  could  drink  no  more. 

Before  Shaw  had  finished  his  tale,  Craig's  eyes 
were  streaming  with  tears,  and  groans  of  rage 
and  pity  broke  alternately  from  him.  Abe 
remained  speechless  for  a  time,  not  trusting 
himself;  but  as  he  heard  Craig  groan,  'Oh,  the 
beasts!  the  fiends  1'  he  seemed  encouraged  to 

M 


i78  BLACK  ROCK 

let  himself  loose,  and  he  began  swearing  with 
the  coolest  and  most  blood-curdling  deliberation. 
Craig  listened  with  evident  approval,  apparently 
finding  complete  satisfaction  in  Abe's  perform- 
ance, when  suddenly  he  seemed  to  waken  up, 
caught  Abe  by  the  arm,  and  said  in  a  horror- 
stricken  voice — 

'Stop!  stopl  God  forgive  us!  we  must  not 
swear  like  this.' 

Abe  stopped  at  once,  and  in  a  surprised  and 
slightly  grieved  voice  said — 

'Why!  what's  the  matter  with  that?  Ain't 
that  what  you  wanted  ? ' 

'Yes!  yes!  God  forgive  me!  I  am  afraid 
it  was,'  he  answered  hurriedly ;  '  but  I  must 
not' 

'  Oh,  don't  you  worry,'  went  on  Abe  cheerfully ; 
'  I  '11  look  after  that  part ;  and  anyway,  ain't  they 
the  blankest  blankety  blank' — going  off  again 
into  a  roll  of  curses,  till  Craig,  in  an  agony  of 
entreaty,  succeeded  in  arresting  the  flow  of  pro- 
fanity possible  to  no  one  but  a  mountain  stage- 
driver.  Abe  paused  looking  hurt,  and  asked  if 
they  did  not  deserve  everything  he  was  calling 
down  upon  them. 


THE  BREAKIN'G  OF  THE  LEAGUE   179, 

*Yes,  yes/  urged  Craig;  'but  that  is  not  our 
business.' 

'  Well !  so  I  reckoned,'  replied  Abe,  recognising 
the  limitations  of  the  cloth ;  '  you  ain't  used  to  it, 
and  you  can't  be  expected  to  do  it ;  but  it  just 
makes  me  feel  good — let  out  o'  school  like — to 
properly  do  'em  up,  the  blank,  blank,'  and  off  he 
went  again.  It  was  only  under  the  pressure  of 
Mr.  Craig's  prayers  and  commands  that  he  finally 
agreed  '  to  hold  in,  though  it  was  tough.' 

'  What 's  to  be  done  ? '  asked  Shaw. 

'Nothing,'  answered  Craig  bitterly.  He  was 
exhausted  with  his  long  ride  from  the  Landing, 
and  broken  with  bitter  disappointment  over  the 
ruin  of  all  that  he  had  laboured  so  long  to 
accomplish, 

'  Nonsense/  said  Graeme  ;  '  there 's  a  good  deal 
to  do.' 

It  was  agreed  that  Craig  should  remain  with 
Nixon  while  the  others  of  us  should  gather  up 
what  fragments  we  could  find  of  the  broken 
League.  We  had  just  opened  the  door,  when  we 
met  a  man  striding  up  at  a  great  pace.  It  was 
Geordie  Crawford. 

1  Hae  ye  seen  the  lad  ? '  was  his  salutation.    No 


i8o  BLACK  ROCK 

one  replied.  So  I  told  Geordie  of  my  last  sight 
of  Billy  in  the  orchestra. 

•An*  did  ye  no'  gang  aifter  him?'  he  asked  in 
indignant  surprise,  adding  with  some  contempt, 
1  Man !  but  ye  're  a  feckless  buddie.' 

'Billy  gone  too!'  said  Shaw.  'They  might 
have  let  Billy  alone.' 

Poor  Craig  stood  in  a  dumb  agony.  Billy's 
fall  seemed  more  than  he  could  bear.  We  went 
out,  leaving  him  heart-broken  amid  the  ruins  of 
his  League. 


THE  LEAGUE'S  REVENGE 


CHAPTER    IX 
THE  LEAGUE'S  REVENGE 

As  we  stood  outside  of  Craig's  shack  in  the  dim 
starlight,  we  could  not  hide  from  ourselves  that 
we  were  beaten.  It  was  not  so  much  grief  as  a 
blind  fury  that  filled  my  heart,  and  looking  at  the 
faces  of  the  men  about  me  I  read  the  same 
feeling  there.  But  what  could  we  do  ?  The  yells 
of  carousing  miners  down  at  Slavin's  told  us  that 
nothing  could  be  done  with  them  that  night.  To 
be  so  utterly  beaten,  and  unfairly,  and  with  no 
chance  of  revenge,  was  maddening. 

1 1  'd  like  to  get  back  at  'em,'  said  Abe,  carefully 
repressing  himself. 

1 1  Ve  got  it,  men/  said  Graeme  suddenly.  '  This 
town  does  not  require  all  the  whisky  there  is  in 
.it';  and  he  unfolded  his  plan.  It  was  to  gain 
possession  of  Slavin's  saloon  and  the  bar  of  the 

Black  Rock  Hotel,  and  clear  out  all  the  liquor  to 

m 


1 84  BLACK  ROCK 

be  found  in  both  these  places.  I  did  not  much 
like  the  idea ;  and  Geordie  said, '  I  'm  ga'en  aifter 
the  lad;  I'll  hae  naethin'  tae  dae  wi*  yon.  It's 
no'  that  easy,  an'  it 's  a  sinfu'  waste/ 

But  Abe  was  wild  to  try  it,  and  Shaw  was 
quite  willing,  while  old  Nelson  sternly  approved. 

'Nelson,  you  and  Shaw  get  a  couple  of  our 
men  and  attend  to  the  saloon.  Slavin  and  the 
whole  gang  are  up  at  the  Black  Rock,  so  you 
won't  have  much  trouble  ;  but  come  to  us  as  soon 
as  you  can.' 

And  so  we  went  our  ways. 

Then  followed  a  scene  the  like  of  which  I  can 
never  hope  to  see  again,  and  it  was  worth  a  man's 
seeing.  But  there  were  times  that  night  when  I 
wished  I  had  not  agreed  to  follow  Graeme  in  his 
plot 

As  we  went  up  to  the  hotel,  I  asked  Graeme, 
'  What  about  the  law  of  this  ? ' 

'Law!'  he  replied  indignantly.  ' They  haven't 
troubled  much  about  law  in  the  whisky  business 
here.  They  get  a  keg  of  high  wines  and  some 
drugs  and  begin  operations.  No ! '  he  went  on  ; 
'if  we  can  get  the  crowd  out,  and  ourselves  in, 
we  '11  make  them  break  the  law  in  getting  us  out 


THE  LEAGUE'S  REVENGE  185 

The  law  won't  trouble  us  over  smuggled  whisky. 
It  will  be  a  great  lark,  and  they  won't  crow  too 
loud  over  the  League.' 

I  did  not  like  the  undertaking  at  first ;  but  as 
I  thought  of  the  whole  wretched  illegal  business 
flourishing  upon  the  weakness  of  the  men  in  the 
mines  and  camps,  whom  I  had  learned  to  regard 
as  brothers,  and  especially  as  I  thought  of  the 
cowards  that  did  for  Nixon,  I  let  my  scruples  go, 
and  determined,  with  Abe, '  to  get  back  at  'em.' 

We  had  no  difficulty  getting  them  out.  Abe 
began  to  yell.  Some  men  rushed  out  to  learn 
the  cause.  He  seized  the  foremost  man,  making 
a  hideous  uproar  all  the  while,  and  in  three 
minutes  had  every  man  out  of  the  hotel  and  a 
lively  row  going  on. 

In  two  minutes  more  Graeme  and  I  had  the 
door  to  the  ball-room  locked  and  barricaded  with 
empty  casks.  We  then  closed  the  door  of  the 
bar-room  leading  to  the  outside.  The  bar-room 
was  a  strongly  built  log-shack,  with  a  heavy  door 
secured,  after  the  manner  of  the  early  cabins,  with 
two  strong  oak  bars,  so  that  we  felt  safe  from 
attack  from  that  quarter. 

The  ball-room  we  could  not  hold  long,  for  the 


1 86  BLACK  ROCK 

door  was  slight  and  entrance  was  possible  through 
the  windows.  But  as  only  a  few  casks  of  liquor 
were  left  there,  our  main  work  would  be  in  the 
bar,  so  that  the  fight  would  be  to  hold  the 
passage-way.  This  we  barricaded  with  casks 
and  tables.  But  by  this  time  the  crowd  had 
begun  to  realise  what  had  happened,  and  were 
wildly  yelling  at  door  and  windows.  With  an 
axe  which  Graeme  had  brought  with  him  the 
casks  were  soon  stove  in,  and  left  to  empty 
themselves. 

As  I  was  about  to  empty  the  last  cask,  Graeme 
stopped  me,  saying,  'Let  that  stand  here.  It 
will  help  us.'  And  so  it  did.  'Now  skip  for 
the  barricade/  yelled  Graeme,  as  a  man  came 
crashing  through  the  window.  Before  he  could 
regain  his  feet,  however,  Graeme  had  seized  him 
and  flung  him  out  upon  the  heads  of  the  crowd 
outside.  But  through  the  other  windows  men 
were  coming  in,  and  Graeme  rushed  for  the  barri- 
cade, followed  by  two  of  the  enemy,  the  foremost 
of  whom  I  received  at  the  top  and  hurled  back 
upon  the  others. 

'  Now,  be  quick ! '  said  Graeme ;  '  I  '11  hold  this. 
Don't  break  any  bottles  on  the  floor — throw  them 


THE  LEAGUE'S  REVENGE      187 

out  there,'  pointing  to  a  little  window  high  up  in 
the  wall. 

I  made  all  haste.  The  casks  did  not  take 
much  time,  and  soon  the  whisky  and  beer  were 
flowing  over  the  floor.  It  made  me  think  of 
Geordie's  regret  over  the  'sinfu*  waste.'  The 
bottles  took  longer,  and  glancing  up  now  and 
then  I  saw  that  Graeme  was  being  hard  pressed. 
Men  would  leap,  two  and  three  at  a  time,  upon 
the  barricade,  and  Graeme's  arms  would  shoot 
out,  and  over  they  would  topple  upon  the  heads 
of  those  nearest.  It  was  a  great  sight  to  see  him 
standing  alone  with  a  smile  on  his  face  and  the 
light  of  battle  in  his  eye,  coolly  meeting  his  assail- 
ants with  those  terrific,  lightning-like  blows.  In 
fifteen  minutes  my  work  was  done. 

'  What  next  ? '  I  asked.    '  How  do  we  get  out  ? ' 

'  How  is  the  door  ? '  he  replied. 

I  looked  through  the  port-hole  and  said,  'A 
crowd  of  men  waiting.' 

'  We  '11  have  to  make  a  dash  for  it,  I  fancy,'  he 
replied  cheerfully,  though  his  face  was  covered 
with  blood  and  his  breath  was  coming  in  short 
gasps. 

'  Get  down  the  bars  and  be  ready.'    But  even 


1 88  BLACK  ROCK 

as  he  spoke  a  chair  hurled  from  below  caught 
him  on  the  arm,  and  before  he  could  recover,  a 
man  had  cleared  the  barricade  and  was  upon  him 
like  a  tiger.  It  was  Idaho  Jack. 

'  Hold  the  barricade/  Graeme  called  out,  as 
they  both  went  down. 

I  sprang  to  his  place,  but  I  had  not  much  hope 
of  holding  it  long.  I  had  the  heavy  oak  bar  of 
the  door  in  my  hands,  and  swinging  it  round 
my  head  I  made  the  crowd  give  back  for  a  few 
moments. 

Meantime  Graeme  had  shaken  off  his  enemy, 
who  was  circling  about  him  upon  his  tip-toes, 
with  a  long  knife  in  his  hand,  waiting  for  a 
chance  to  spring. 

'I  have  been  waiting  for  this  for  some  time, 
Mr.  Graeme,'  he  said  smiling. 

'Yes,'  replied  Graeme,  'ever  since  I  spoiled 
your  cut-throat  game  in  'Frisco.  How  is  the 
little  one?'  he  added  sarcastically. 

Idaho's  face  lost  its  smile  and  became  distorted 
with  fury  as  he  replied,  spitting  out  his  words, 
'She — is — where  you  will  be  before  I  am  done 
with  you.' 

'Ahl    you   murdered  her  tool      You'll  hang 


THE  LEAGUE'S  REVENGE      189 

some  beautiful  day,  Idaho,'  said  Graeme,  as 
Idaho  sprang  upon  him. 

Graeme  dodged  his  blow  and  caught  his  fore- 
arm with  his  left  hand  and  held  up  high  the 
murderous  knife.  Back  and  forward  they  swayed 
over  the  floor,  slippery  with  whisky,  the  knife 
held  high  in  the  air.  I  wondered  why  Graeme 
did  not  strike,  and  then  I  saw  his  right  hand  hung 
limp  from  the  wrist.  The  men  were  crowding 
upon  the  barricade.  I  was  in  despair.  Graeme's 
strength  was  going  fast.  With  a  yell  of  exultant 
fury  Idaho  threw  himself  with  all  his  weight  upon 
Graeme,  who  could  only  cling  to  him.  They 
swayed  together  towards  me,  but  as  they  fell  I 
brought  down  my  bar  upon  the  upraised  hand 
and  sent  the  knife  flying  across  the  room.  Idaho's 
howl  of  rage  and  pain  was  mingled  with  a  shout 
from  below,  and  there,  dashing  the  crowd  to  right 
and  left,  came  old  Nelson,  followed  by  Abe,  Sandy, 
Baptiste,  Shaw,  and  others.  As  they  reached  the 
barricade  it  crashed  down  and,  carrying  me  with 
it,  pinned  me  fast. 

Looking  out  between  the  barrels,  I  saw  what 
froze  my  heart  with  horror.  In  the  fall  Graeme 
had  wound  his  arms  about  his  enemy  and  held 


1 90  BLACK  ROCK 

him  in  a  grip  so  deadly  that  he  could  not  strike ; 
but  Graeme's  strength  was  failing,  and  when  I 
looked  I  saw  that  Idaho  was  slowly  dragging 
both  across  the  slippery  floor  to  where  the  knife 
lay.  Nearer  and  nearer  his  outstretched  fingers 
came  to  the  knife.  In  vain  I  yelled  and  struggled. 
My  voice  was  lost  in  the  awful  din,  and  the  barri- 
cade held  me  fast  Above  me,  standing  on  a 
barrel-head,  was  Baptiste,  yelling  like  a  demon. 
In  vain  I  called  to  him.  My  fingers  could  just 
reach  his  foot,  and  he  heeded  not  at  all  my  touch. 
Slowly  Idaho  was  dragging  his  almost  uncon- 
scious victim  toward  the  knife.  His  fingers  were 
touching  the  blade  point,  when,  under  a  sudden 
inspiration,  I  pulled  out  my  penknife,  opened  it 
with  my  teeth,  and  drove  the  blade  into  Baptiste's 
foot.  With  a  blood-curdling  yell  he  sprang  down 
and  began  dancing  round  in  his  rage,  peering 
among  the  barrels. 

'  Look !  look  ! '  I  was  calling  in  agony,  and 
pointing ;  '  for  heaven's  sake,  look  !  Baptiste ! ' 

The  fingers  had  closed  upon  the  knife,  the  knife 
was  already  high  in  the  air,  when,  with  a  shriek, 
Baptiste  cleared  the  room  at  a  bound,  and,  before 
the  knife  could  fall,  the  little  Frenchman's  boot 


•  THE  LEAGUE'S  REVENGE  191 

h«d  caught  the  uplifted  wrist,  and  sent  the  knife 
flying  to  the  wall. 

Then  there  was  a  great  rushing  sound  as  of 
wind  through  the  forest,  and  the  lights  went  out. 
When  I  awoke,  I  found  myself  lying  with  my  head 
on  Graeme's  knees,  and  Baptiste  sprinkling  snow 
on  my  face.  As  I  looked  up  Graeme  leaned  over 
me,  and,  smiling  down  into  my  eyes,  he  said — 

'Good  boy!  It  was  a  great  fight,  and  we  put 
it  up  well ' ;  and  then  he  whispered,  '  I  owe  you 
my  life,  my  boy.' 

His  words  thrilled  my  heart  through  and 
through,  for  I  loved  him  as  only  men  can  love 
men  ;  but  I  only  answered — 

1 1  could  not  keep  them  back.' 

'  It  was  well  done,'  he  said  ;  and  I  felt  proud. 

I  confess  I  was  thankful  to  be  so  well  out  of 
it,  for  Graeme  got  off  with  a  bone  in  his  wrist 
broken,  and  I  with  a  couple  of  ribs  cracked ;  but 
had  it  not  been  for  the  open  barrel  of  whisky 
which  kept  them  occupied  for  a  time,  offering 
too  good  a  chance  to  be  lost,  and  for  the  timely 
arrival  of  Nelson,  neither  of  us  had  ever  seen  the 
light  again. 

We  found  Craig  sound  asleep  upon  his  couch. 


iga  BLACK  ROCK 

His  consternation  on  waking  to  see  us  torn, 
bruised,  and  bloody  was  laughable ;  but  he 
hastened  to  find  us  warm  water  and  bandages, 
and  we  soon  felt  comfortable. 

Baptiste  was  radiant  with  pride  and  light  over 
the  fight,  and  hovered  about  Graeme  and  me 
giving  vent  to  his  feelings  in  admiring  French 
and  English  expletives.  But  Abe  was  disgusted 
because  of  the  failure  at  Slavin's  ;  for  when  Nelson 
looked  in,  he  saw  Slavin's  French-Canadian  wife 
in  charge,  with  her  baby  on  her  lap,  and  he  came 
back  to  Shaw  and  said,  '  Come  away,  we  can't 
touch  this ' ;  and  Shaw,  after  looking  in,  agreed 
that  nothing  could  be  done.  A  baby  held  the 
fort 

As  Craig  listened  to  the  account  of  the  fight,  he 
tried  hard  not  to  approve,  but  he  could  not  keep 
the  gleam  out  of  his  eyes ;  and  as  I  pictured 
Graeme  dashing  back  the  crowd  thronging  the 
barricade  till  he  was  brought  down  by  the  chair, 
Craig  laughed  gently,  and  put  his  hand  on 
Graeme's  knee.  And  as  I  went  on  to  describe 
my  agony  while  Idaho's  fingers  were  gradually 
nearing  the  knife,  his  face  grew  pale  and  his  eyes 
grew  wide  with  horror. 


THE  LEAGUE'S  REVENGE  193 

^Baptiste  here  did  the  business,'  I  said,  and  the 
little  Frenchman  nodded  complacently  and  said — 

'  Dat  's  me  for  sure.' 

'By  the  way,  how  is  your  foot?'  asked 
Graeme. 

'  He  's  fuss-rate.  Dat 's  what  you  call — one 
bite  of — of — dat  leel  bees,  he 's  dere,  you  put  your 
finger  dere,  he 's  not  dere ! — what  you  call  him  ? ' 

'  Flea ! '  I  suggested. 

'  Oui ! '  cried  Baptiste.     '  Dat 's  one  bite  of  flea.' 

'  I  was  thankful  I  was  under  the  barrels,'  I 
replied,  smiling. 

'  Oui !  Dat 's  mak'  me  ver  mad.  I  jump  an' 
swear  mos'  awful  bad.  Dat 's  pardon  me,  M'sieu 
Craig,  heh  ? ' 

But  Craig  only  smiled  at  him  rather  sadly 
'  It  was  awfully  risky,'  he  said  to  Graeme, '  and  i4- 
was  hardly  worth  it.  They'll  get  more  whisky, 
and  anyway  the  League  is  gone.' 

'  Well,'  said  Graeme  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction, 
'  it  is  not  quite  such  a  one-sided  affair  as  it  was.' 

And  we  could  say  nothing  in  reply,  for  we 
could  hear  Nixon  snoring  in  the  next  room,  and 
no  one  had  heard  of  Billy,  and  there  were  others 
of  the  League  that  we  knew  were  even  now  down 


i94  BLACK  ROCK 

at  Slavin's.  It  was  thought  best  that  all  should 
remain  in  Mr.  Craig's  shack,  not  knowing  what 
might  happen;  and  so  we  lay  where  we  could 
and  we  needed  none  to  sing  us  to  sleep. 

When  I  awoke,  stiff  and  sore,  it  was  to  find 
breakfast  ready  and  old  man  Nelson  in  charge. 
As  we  were  seated,  Craig  came  in,  and  I  saw  that 
he  was  not  the  man  of  the  night  before.  His 
courage  had  come  back,  his  face  was  quiet  and 
his  eye  clear  ;  he  was  his  own  man  again. 

'  Geordie  has  been  out  all  night,  but  has  failed 
to  find  Billy,'  he  announced  quietly. 

We  did  not  talk  much ;  Graeme  and  I  worried 
with  our  broken  bones,  and  the  others  suffered 
from  a  general  morning  depression.  But,  after 
breakfast,  as  the  men  were  beginning  to  move, 
Craig  took  down  his  Bible,  and  saying — 

'  Wait  a  few  minutes,  men ! '  he  read  slowly, 
in  his  beautiful  clear  voice,  that  psalm  for  all 
fighters — 

'  God  is  our  refuge  and  strength,' 

and  so  on  to  the  noble  words — 

'The  Lord  of  Hosts  is  with  us  ; 
The  God  of  Jacob  is  our  refuge.' 


THE  LEAGUE'S  REVENGE     195 

How  the  mighty  words  pulled  us  together,  lifted 
us  till  we  grew  ashamed  of  our  ignoble  rage  and 
of  our  ignoble  depression ! 

And  then  Craig  prayed  in  simple,  straight- 
going  words.  There  was  acknowledgement  of 
failure,  but  I  knew  he  was  thinking  chiefly  of 
himself;  and  there  was  gratitude,  and  that  was 
for  the  men  about  him,  and  I  felt  my  face  bum 
with  shame  ;  and  there  was  petition  for  help,  and 
we  all  thought  of  Nixon,  and  Billy,  and  the  men 
wakening  from  their  debauch  at  Slavin's  this  pure, 
bright  morning.  And  then  he  asked  that  we 
might  be  made  faithful  and  worthy  of  God,  whose 
battle  it  was.  Then  we  all  stood  up  and  shook 
hands  with  him  in  silence,  and  every  man  knew 
a  covenant  was  being  made.  But  none  saw  his 
meeting  with  Nixon.  He  sent  us  all  away  before 
that. 

Nothing  was  heard  of  the  destruction  of  the 
hotel  stock-in-trade.  Unpleasant  questions  would 
certainly  be  asked,  and  the  proprietor  decided  to 
let  bad  alone.  On  the  point  of  respectability  the 
success  of  the  ball  was  not  conspicuous,  but  the 
anti-League  men  were  content,  if  not  jubilant 

Billy  Breen  was  found  by  Geordie  late  in  the 


196  BLACK  ROCK 

afternoon  in  his  own  old  and  deserted  shack, 
breathing  heavily,  covered  up  in  his  filthy, 
mouldering  bed-clothes,  with  a  half-empty  bottle 
of  whisky  at  his  side.  Geordie's  grief  and  rage 
were  beyond  even  his  Scotch  control.  He  spoke 
few  words,  but  these  were  of  such  concentrated 
vehemence  that  no  one  felt  the  need  of  Abe's 
assistance  in  vocabulary. 

Poor  Billy !  We  carried  him  to  Mrs.  Mavor's 
home ;  put  him  in  a  warm  bath,  rolled  him  in 
blankets,  and  gave  him  little  sips  of  hot  water, 
then  of  hot  milk  and  coffee ;  as  I  had  seen  a 
clever  doctor  in  the  hospital  treat  a  similar  case 
of  nerve  and  heart  depression.  But  the  already 
weakened  system  could  not  recover  from  the  awful 
shock  of  the  exposure  following  the  debauch  ;  and 
on  Sunday  afternoon  we  saw  that  his  heart  was 
failing  fast  All  day  the  miners  had  been 
dropping  in  to  inquire  after  him,  for  Billy  had 
been  a  great  favourite  in  other  days,  and  the 
attention  of  the  town  had  been  admiringly  centred 
upon  his  fight  of  these  last  weeks.  It  was  with 
no  ordinary  sorrow  that  the  news  of  his  con- 
dition was  received.  As  Mrs.  Mavor  sang  to 
him,  his  large  coarse  hands  moved  in  time  to  the 


THE  LEAGUE'S  REVENGE     197 

music,  but  he  did  not  open  his  eyes  till  he  heard 
Mr.  Craig's  voice  in  the  next  room ;  then  he  spoke 
his  name,  and  Mr.  Craig  was  kneeling  beside  him 
in  a  moment  The  words  came  slowly — 

1  Oi  tried — to  fight  it  hout — but — oi  got  beaten. 
Hit  'urts  to  think  'E 's  hashamed  o1  me.  Oi'd 
like  t'a  done  better — oi  would.' 

'  Ashamed  of  you,  Billy ! '  said  Craig,  in  a  voice 
that  broke.  '  Not  He.' 

'An' — ye  hall — 'elped  me  so!'  he  went  on. 
'  Oi  wish  oi  'd  'a  done  better — oi  do,'  and  his 
eyes  sought  Geordie,  and  then  rested  on  Mrs. 
Mavor,  who  smiled  back  at  him  with  a  world  of 
love  in  her  eyes. 

'  You  hain't  hashamed  o'  me — yore  heyes  saigh 
so,'  he  said  looking  at  her. 

1  No,  Billy,'  she  said,  and  I  wondered  at  her 
steady  voice, '  not  a  bit  Why,  Billy,  I  am  proud 
of  you.' 

He  gazed  up  at  her  with  wonder  and  ineffable 
love  in  his  little  eyes,  then  lifted  his  hand  slightly 
toward  her.  She  knelt  quickly  and  took  it  in 
both  of  hers,  stroking  it  and  kissing  it 

1  Oi  haught  t'a  done  better.  Oi  'm  hawful  sorry 
oi  went  back  on  '1m.  Hit  was  the  lemonaide. 


i98  BLACK  ROCK 

The  boys  didn't  mean  no  'arm — but  hit  started 
the  'ell  hinside.' 

Geordie  hurled  out  some  bitter  words. 

'Don't  be  'ard  on  'em,  Geordie;  they  didn't 
mean  no  'arm,'  he  said,  and  his  eyes  kept  waiting 
till  Geordie  said  hurriedly — 

'Nal  nal  lad — a'll  juist  leave  them  till  the 
Almichty.' 

Then  Mrs.  Mavor  sang  softly,  smoothing  his 
hand, '  Just  as  I  am,'  and  Billy  dozed  quietly  for 
half  an  hour. 

When  he  awoke  again  his  eyes  turned  to  Mr. 
Craig,  and  they  were  troubled  and  anxious. 

'  Oi  tried  'ard.  Oi  wanted  to  win,'  he  struggled 
to  say.  By  this  time  Craig  was  master  of  himself, 
and  he  answered  in  a  clear,  distinct  voice— 

'Listen,  Billy  1  You  made  a  great  fight,  and 
you  are  going  to  win  yet.  And  besides,  do  you 
remember  the  sheep  that  got  lost  over  the 
mountains?' — this  parable  was  Billy's  special 
delight — '  He  didn't  beat  it  when  He  got  it,  did 
He?  He  took  it  in  His  arms  and  carried  it 
home.  And  so  He  will  you.' 

And  Billy,  keeping  his  eyes  fastened  on  Mr. 
Craig,  simply  said — 


THE  LEAGUE'S  REVENGE     199 

'Will'E?' 

1  Sure  1 '  said  Craig. 

*  Will  'E  ? '  he  repeated,  turning  his  eyes  upon 
Mrs.  Mavor. 

1  Why,  yes,  Billy,'  she  answered  cheerily,  though 
the  tears  were  streaming  from  her  eyes.  'I 
would,  and  He  loves  you  far  more.' 

He  looked  at  her,  smiled,  and  closed  his  eyes 
I  put  my  hand  on  his  heart;  it  was  fluttering 
feebly.  Again  a  troubled  look  passed  over  his 
face. 

' My — poor — hold — mother,'  he  whispered,  'she's 
— hin — the — wukus.' 

'I  shall  take  care  of  her,  Billy,'  said  Mrs. 
Mavor,  in  a  clear  voice,  and  again  Billy  smiled. 
Then  he  turned  his  eyes  to  Mr.  Craig,  and  from 
him  to  Geordie,  and  at  last  to  Mrs.  Mavor,  where 
they  rested.  She  bent  over  and  kissed  him 
twice  on  the  forehead. 

1  Tell  'er,'  he  said,  with  difficulty, '  'E 's  took  me 
'ome.' 

1  Yes,  Billy  1 '  she  cried,  gazing  into  his  glazing 
eyes.  He  tried  to  lift  her  hand.  She  kissed  him 
again.  He  drew  one  deep  breath  and  lay  quite 
still 


zoo  BLACK  ROCK 

•  '  Thank  the  blessed  Saviour  1 '  said  Mr.  Craig, 
reverently.  '  He  has  taken  him  home.' 

But  Mrs.  Mavor  held  the  dead  hand  tight  and 
sobbed  out  passionately,  'Oh,  Billy,  Billy!  you 
helped  me  once  when  I  needed  help  1  I  cannot 
forget  1 ' 

And  Geordie,  groaning,  'Ay,  laddie,  laddie/ 
passed  out  into  the  fading  light  of  the  early 
evening. 

Next  day  no  one  went  to  work,  for  to  all  it 
seemed  a  sacred  day.  They  carried  him  into 
the  little  church,  and  there  Mr.  Craig  spoke  of 
his  long,  hard  fight,  and  of  his  final  victory ;  for 
he  died  without  a  fear,  and  with  love  to  the  men 
who,  not  knowing,  had  been  his  death.  And 
there  was  no  bitterness  in  any  heart,  for  Mr. 
Craig  read  the  story  of  the  sheep,  and  told  how 
gently  He  had  taken  Billy  home ;  but,  though  no 
word  was  spoken,  it  was  there  the  League  was 
made  again. 

They  laid  him  under  the  pines,  beside  Lewis 
Mavor ;  and  the  miners  threw  sprigs  of  evergreen 
into  the  open  grave.  When  Slavin,  sobbing 
bitterly,  brought  his  sprig,  no  one  stopped  him, 
though  all  thought  it  strange. 


THE  LEAGUE'S  REVENGE  aoi 

As  we  turned  to  leave  the  grave,  the  light  from 
the  evening  sun  came  softly  through  the  gap  in 
the  mountains,  and,  filling  the  valley,  touched  the 
trees  and  the  little  mound  beneath  with  glory. 
And  I  thought  of  that  other  glory,  which  is 
brighter  than  the  sun,  and  was  not  sorry  that 
poor  Billy's  weary  fight  was  over;  and  I  could 
not  help  agreeing  with  Craig  that  U  HTM  there 
the  League  had  its  revenge. 


WHAT  CAME  TO  SLAVIN 


CHAPTER    X 

WHAT  CAME  TO  SLAVIN 

BILLY  BREEN'S  legacy  to  the  Black  Rock  mining 
camp  was  a  new  League,  which  was  more  than 
the  old  League  re-made.  The  League  was  new 
in  its  spirit  and  in  its  methods.  The  impression 
made  upon  the  camp  by  Billy  Breen's  death  was 
very  remarkable,  and  I  have  never  been  quite  able 
to  account  for  it.  The  mood  of  the  community  at 
the  time  was  peculiarly  susceptible.  Billy  was  one 
of  the  oldest  of  the  old-timers.  His  decline  and 
fall  had  been  a  long  process,  and  his  struggle  for 
life  and  manhood  was  striking  enough  to  arrest 
the  attention  and  awaken  the  sympathy  of  the 
whole  camp.  We  instinctively  side  with  a  man 
in  his  struggle  for  freedom;  for  we  feel  that 
freedom  is  native  to  him  and  to  us.  The  sudden 
collapse  of  the  struggle  stirred  the  men  with  a 
deep  pity  for  the  beaten  man,  and  a  deep  con- 


ao6  BLACK  ROCK 

tempt  for  those  who  had  tricked  him  to  his  doom. 
But  though  the  pity  and  the  contempt  remained, 
the  gloom  was  relieved  and  the  sense  of  defeat 
removed  from  the  men's  minds  by  the  trans- 
forming glory  of  Billy's  last  hour.  Mr.  Craig, 
reading  of  the  tragedy  of  Billy's  death,  trans- 
figured defeat  into  victory,  and  this  was  generally 
accepted  by  the  men  as  the  true  reading,  though 
to  them  it  was  full  of  mystery.  But  they  could 
all  understand  and  appreciate  at  full  value  the 
spirit  that  breathed  through  the  words  of  the 
dying  man :  '  Don't  be  'ard  on  'em,  they  didn't 
mean  no  'arm.'  And  this  was  the  new  spirit  of 
the  League. 

It  was  this  spirit  that  surprised  Slavin  into 
sudden  tears  at  the  grave's  side.  He  had  come 
braced  for  curses  and  vengeance,  for  all  knew  it 
was  he  who  had  doctored  Billy's  lemonade,  and 
instead  of  vengeance  the  message  from  the  dead 
that  echoed  through  the  voice  of  the  living  was 
one  of  pity  and  forgiveness. 

But  the  days  of  the  League's  negative,  defensive 
warfare  were  over.  The  fight  was  to  the  death, 
and  now  the  war  was  to  be  carried  into  the 
enemy's  country.  The  League  men  proposed  a 


WHAT  CAME  TO  SLAVIN  207 

thoroughly  equipped  and  well-conducted  coffee- 
room,  reading-room,  and  hall,  to  parallel  the 
enemy's  lines  of  operation,  and  defeat  them  with 
their  own  weapons  upon  their  own  ground.  The 
main  outlines  of  the  scheme  were  clearly  defined 
and  were  easily  seen,  but  the  perfecting  of  the 
details  called  for  all  Craig's  tact  and  good  sense. 
When,  for  instance,  Vernon  Winton,  who  had 
charge  of  the  entertainment  department,  came 
for  Craig's  opinion  as  to  a  minstrel  troupe 
and  private  theatricals,  Craig  was  prompt  with 
his  answer — 

1  Anything  clean  goes.' 

'  A  nigger  show  ? '  asked  Winton. 

1  Depends  upon  the  niggers,'  replied  Craig  with 
a  gravely  comic  look,  shrewdly  adding,  'ask 
Mrs.  Mavor';  and  so  the  League  Minstrel  and 
Dramatic  Company  became  an  established  fact, 
and  proved,  as  Craig  afterwards  told  me, '  a  great 
means  of  grace  to  the  camp.' 

Shaw  had  charge  of  the  social  department, 
whose  special  care  it  was  to  see  that  the  men 
were  made  welcome  to  the  cosy,  cheerful  reading 
room,  where  they  might  chat,  smoke,  read,  write, 
or  play  games,  according  to  fancy. 


io8  BLACK  ROCK 

But  Craig  /bit  that  the  success  or  failure  of  the 
scheme  would  largely  depend  upon  the  character 
of  the  Resident  Manager,  who,  while  caring  for 
reading-room  and  hall,  would  control  and  operate 
the  important  department  represented  by  the 
coffee-room. 

'  At  this  point  the  whole  business  may  come  to 
grief/  he  said  to  Mrs.  Mavor,  without  whose 
counsel  nothing  was  done. 

'Why  come  to  grief?'  she  asked  brightly. 

1  Because  if  we  don't  get  the  right  man,  that 's 
what  will  happen/  he  replied  in  a  tone  that 
spoke  of  anxious  worry. 

'But  we  shall  get  the  right  man,  never  fear.' 
Her  serene  courage  never  faltered.  'He  will 
come  to  us/ 

Craig  turned  and  gazed  at  her  in  frank  admira- 
tion and  said — 

'  If  I  only  had  your  courage  I* 

'  Courage  1 '  she  answered  quickly.  '  It  is  not 
for  you  to  say  that ' ;  and  at  his  answering  look 
the  red  came  into  her  cheek  and  the  depths  in 
her  eyes  glowed,  and  I  marvelled  and  wondered, 
looking  at  Craig's  cool  face,  whether  his  blood 
were  running  evenly  through  his  veins.  But  his 


WHAT  CAME  TO  SLAVIN  209 

voice  was  quiet,  a  shade  too  quiet  I  thought,  as 
he  gravely  replied — 

4 1  would  often  be  a  coward  but  for  the  shame 
of  it' 

And  so  the  League  waited  for  the  man  to 
come,  who  was  to  be  Resident  Manager  and 
make  the  new  enterprise  a  success.  And  come 
he  did ;  but  the  manner  of  his  coming  was  so 
extraordinary,  that  I  have  believed  in  the  doctrine 
of  a  special  providence  ever  since ;  for  as  Craig 
said,  '  If  he  had  come  straight  from  Heaven  I 
could  not  have  been  more  surprised.' 

While  the  League  was  thus  waiting,  its  interest 
centred  upon  Slavin,  chiefly  because  he  represented 
more  than  any  other  the  forces  of  the  enemy ; 
and  though  Billy  Breen  stood  between  him  and 
the  vengeance  of  the  angry  men  who  would  have 
made  short  work  of  him  and  his  saloon,  nothing 
could  save  him  from  himself,  and  after  the  funeral 
Slavin  went  to  his  bar  and  drank  whisky  as  he 
had  never  drunk  before.  But  the  more  he  drank 
the  fiercer  and  gloomier  he  became,  and  when  the 
men  drinking  with  him  chaffed  him,  he  swore 
deeply  and  with  such  threats  that  they  left  him 
alone. 


aio  BLACK  ROCK 

It  did  not  help  Slavin  either  to  have  Nixon 
stride  in  through  the  crowd  drinking  at  his  bar 
and  give  him  words  of  warning. 

'  It  is  not  your  fault,  Slavin,'  he  said  in  slow, 
cool  voice,  'that  you  and  your  precious  crew 
didn't  sent  me  to  my  death,  too.  You've  won 
your  bet,  but  I  want  to  say,  that  next  time,  though 
you  are  seven  to  one,  or  ten  times  that,  when  any 
of  you  boys  offer  me  a  drink  I  '11  take  you  to 
mean  fight,  and  I  '11  not  disappoint  you,  and 
some  one  will  be  killed,'  and  so  saying  he  strode 
out  again,  leaving  a  mean-looking  crowd  of  men 
behind  him.  All  who  had  not  been  concerned  in 
the  business  at  Nixon's  shack  expressed  approval 
of  his  position,  and  hoped  he  would  'see  it 
through.' 

But  the  impression  of  Nixon's  words  upon 
Slavin  was  as  nothing  compared  with  that  made 
by  Geordie  Crawford.  It  was  not  what  he  said 
so  much  as  the  manner  of  awful  solemnity  he 
carried.  Geordie  was  struggling  conscientiously 
to  keep  his  promise  to  '  not  be  'ard  on  the  boys/ 
and  found  considerable  relief  in  remembering 
that  he  haJ  agreed  'to  leave  them  tae  the 
Almichty.'  But  the  manner  of  leaving  them  was 


WHAT  CAME  TO  SLAVIN  sn 

so  solemnly  awful,  that  I  could  not  wonder  that 
Slavin's  superstitious  Irish  nature  supplied  him 
with  supernatural  terrors.  It  was  the  second  day 
after  the  funeral  that  Geordie  and  I  were  walking 
towards  Slavin's.  There  was  a  great  shout  of 
laughter  as  we  drew  near. 

Geordie  stopped  short,  and  saying, '  We'll  juist 
gang  in  a  meenute,'  passed  through  the  crowd 
and  up  to  the  bar. 

'  Michael  Slavin,'  began  Geordie,  and  the  men 
stared  in  dead  silence,  with  their  glasses  in  their 
hands.  '  Michael  Slavin,  a'  promised  the  lad  a'd 
bear  ye  nae  ill  wull,  but  juist  leave  ye  tae  the  Al- 
michty ;  an'  I  want  tae  tell  ye  that  a'm  keepin' 
ma  wur-r-d.  But ' — and  here  he  raised  his  hand, 
and  his  voice  became  preternaturally  solemn — 
'  his  bluid  is  upon  yer  han's.  Do  ye  no'  see  it  ? ' 

His  voice  rose  sharply,  and  as  he  pointed, 
Slavin  instinctively  glanced  at  his  hands,  and 
Geordie  added — 

'Ay,  and  the  Lord  will  require  it  o'  you  and 
yer  hoose.' 

They  told  me  that  Slavin  shivered  as  if 
taken  with  ague  after  Geordie  went  out,  and 
though  he  laughed  and  swore,  he  did  not  stop 


£ia  BLACK  ROCK 

drinking  till  he  sank  into  a  drunken  stupor  and 
had  to  be  carried  to  bed.  His  little  French- 
Canadian  wife  could  not  understand  the  change 
that  had  come  over  her  husband. 

'He's  like  one  bear/  she  confided  to  Mrs. 
Mavor,  to  whom  she  was  showing  her  baby  of  a 
year  old.  'He's  not  kees  me  one  tarn  dis  day. 
He 's  mos  hawful  bad,  he 's  not  even  look  at  de 
baby.'  And  this  seemed  sufficient  proof  that 
something  was  seriously  wrong  ;  for  she  went  on 
to  say — 

'  He 's  tink  more  for  dat  leel  baby  dan  for  de 
whole  worl' ;  he 's  tink  more  for  dat  baby  dan  for 
me,'  but  she  shrugged  her  pretty  little  shoulders 
in  deprecation  of  her  speech. 

'You  must  pray  for  him,'  said  Mrs.  Mavor, 
1  and  all  will  come  right.' 

'Ah!  madame!'  she  replied  earnestly,  'every 
day,  every  day,  I  pray  la  sainte  Vierge  et  tous  les 
saints  for  him.' 

'  You  must  pray  to  your  Father  in  heaven  for 
him/ 

'  Ah  1  oui  1  I  weel  pray,'  and  Mrs.  Mavor  sent 
her  away  bright  with  smiles,  and  with  new  hope 
and  courage  in  her  heart 


WHAT  CAME  TO  SLAVIN  213 

She  had  very  soon  need  of  all  her  courage,  for 
at  the  week's  end  her  baby  fell  dangerously  ill. 
Slavin's  anxiety  and  fear  were  not  relieved  much 
by  the  reports  the  men  brought  him  from  time  to 
time  of  Geordie's  ominous  forebodings ;  for 
Geordie  had  no  doubt  but  that  the  Avenger  of 
Blood  was  hot  upon  Slavin's  trail ;  and  as  the 
sickness  grew,  he  became  confirmed  in  this  con- 
viction. While  he  could  not  be  said  to  find 
satisfaction  in  Slavin's  impending  affliction,  he 
could  hardly  hide  his  complacency  in  the 
promptness  of  Providence  in  vindicating  his 
theory  of  retribution. 

But  Geordie's  complacency  was  somewhat 
rudely  shocked  by  Mr.  Craig's  answer  to  his 
theory  one  day. 

'You  read  your  Bible  to  little  profit,  it  seems 
to  me,  Geordie :  or,  perhaps,  you  have  never  read 
the  Master's  teaching  about  the  Tower  of  Siloam. 
Better  read  that  and  take  that  warning  to  your- 
self.' 

Geordie  gazed  after  Mr.  Craig  as  he  turned 
away,  and  muttered — 

'The  toor  o'  Siloam,  is  it?  Ay,  a'  ken  fine 
aboot  the  toor  o'  Siloam,  and  aboot  the^toor  o' 


a  14  BLACK  ROCK 

Babel  as  weel ;  an'  a've  read,  too,  about  the 
blaspheemious  Herod,  an'  sic  like.  Man,  but 
he's  a  hot-heided  laddie,  and  lacks  discreem- 
eenation.' 

1  What  about  Herod,  Geordie  ? '  I  asked. 

1  Aboot  Herod  ? ' — with  a  strong  tinge  of  con- 
tempt in  his  tone.  'Aboot  Herod?  Man,  hae 
ye  no'  read  in  the  Screepturs  aboot  Herod  an* 
the  wur-r-ms  in  the  wame  o'  him  ? ' 

'  Oh  yes,  I  see,'  I  hastened  to  answer. 

'  Ay,  a  fule  can  see  what 's  flapped  in  his  face/ 
with  which  bit  of  proverbial  philosophy  h* 
suddenly  left  me.  But  Geordie  thenceforth  con- 
tented himself,  in  Mr.  Craig's  presence  at  least. 
with  ominous  head-shakings,  equally  aggravaliog, 
and  impossible  to  answer. 

That  same  night,  however,  Geordie  showed 
that  with  all  his  theories  he  had  a  man's  true 
heart,  for  he  came  in  haste  to  Mrs.  Mavor  to  say : 

'  Ye  '11  be  needed  ower  yonder,  a'm  thinkinV  • 

'Why?  Is  the  baby  worse?  Have  you 
been  in  ? ' 

'Na,  na/  replied  Geordie  cautiously,  'a'll  no 
gang  where  a'm  no  wanted.  But  yon  puir  thing, 
ye  can  hear  ootside  weepin*  and  moaninV 


WHAT  CAME  TO  SLAVIN  ai$ 

'She'll  maybe  need  ye  tae,'  he  went  on 
dubiously  to  me.  '  Ye  're  a  kind  o'  doctor,  a'  hear,' 
not  committing  himself  to  any  opinion  as  to  my 
professional  value.  But  Slavin  would  have  none 
of  me,  having  got  the  doctor  sober  enough  to 
prescribe. 

The  interest  of  the  camp  in  Slavin  was  greatly 
increased  by  the  illness  of  his  baby,  which  was 
to  him  as  the  apple  of  his  eye.  There  were  a  few 
who,  impressed  by  Geordie's  profound  convictions 
upon  the  matter,  were  inclined  to  favour  the 
retribution  theory,  and  connect  the  baby's  illness 
with  the  vengeance  of  the  Almighty.  Among 
these  few  was  Slavin  himself,  and  goaded  by  his 
remorseful  terrors  he  sought  relief  in  drink.  But 
this  brought  him  only  deeper  and  fiercer  gloom  ; 
so  that  between  her  suffering  child  and  her 
savagely  despairing  husband,  the  poor  mother 
was  desperate  with  terror  and  grief. 

'Ah!  madame/  she  sobbed  to  Mrs.  Mavor, 
'my  heart  is  broke  for  him.  He's  heet  noting 
for  tree  days,  but  jis  dreenk,  dreenk,  dreenk.' 

The  next  day  a  man  came  for  me  in  haste. 
The  baby  was  dying  and  the  doctor  was  drunk. 
I  found  the  little  one  in  a  convulsion  lying  across 


ai6  BLACK  ROCK 

Mrs.  Mayor's  knees,  the  mother  kneeling  beside 
it,  wringing  her  hands  in  a  dumb  agony,  and 
Slavin  standing  near,  silent  and  suffering.  I 
glanced  at  the  bottle  of  medicine  upon  the  table 
and  asked  Mrs.  Mavor  the  dose,  and  found  the 
baby  had  been  poisoned.  My  look  of  horror  told 
Slavin  something  was  wrong,  and  striding  to  me 
he  caught  my  arm  and  askea — 

'What  is  it?     Is  the  medicine  wrong? 

I  tried  to  put  him  off,  but  his  grip  tightened 
till  his  fingers  seemed  to  reach  the  bone, 

1  The  dose  is  certainly  too  large ;  but  let  me  go, 
I  must  do  something.' 

He  let  me  go  at  once,  saying  in  a  voice  that 
made  my  heart  sore  for  him,  '  He  has  killed  my 
baby;  he  has  killed  my  baby.'  And  then  he 
cursed  the  doctor  with  awful  curses,  and  with  a 
look  of  such  murderous  fury  on  his  face  that  I  was 
glad  the  doctor  was  too  drunk  to  appear. 

His  wife  hearing  his  curses,  and  understanding 
the  cause,  broke  out  into  wailing  hard  to  bear. 

'Ah!  mon  petit  ange!  It  is  dat  wheeskey 
dat  's  keel  mon  baby.  Ah !  mon  cheri,  mon 
amour.  Ah !  mon  Dieu  I  Ah,  Michael,  how  often 
I  say  that  wheeskey  he 's  not  good  ting.' 


WHAT  CAME  TO  SLAVIN  117 

It  was  more  than  Slavin  could  bear,  and  with 
awful  curses  he  passed  out  Mrs.  Mavor  laid  the 
baby  in  its  crib,  for  the  convulsion  had  passed 
away ;  and  putting  her  arms  about  the  wailing 
little  Frenchwoman,  comforted  and  soothed  her 
as  a  mother  might  her  child. 

'And  you  must  help  your  husband/  I  heard 
her  say.  '  He  will  need  you  more  than  ever. 
Think  of  him.' 

'Ah!  ouil  I  weel,1  was  the  quick  reply,  and 
from  that  moment  there  was  no  more  wailing. 

It  seemed  no  more  than  a  minute  till  Slavin 
came  in  again,  sober,  quiet,  and  steady;  the 
passion  was  all  gone  from  his  face,  and  only  the 
grief  remained. 

As  we  stood  leaning  over  the  sleeping  child  the 
little  thing  opened  its  eyes,  saw  its  father,  and 
smiled.  It  was  too  much  for  him.  The  big  man 
dropped  on  his  knees  with  a  dry  sob. 

'Is  there  no  chance  at  all,  at  all?'  he  whispered, 
but  I  could  give  him  no  hope.  He  immediately 
rose,  and  pulling  himself  together,  stood  perfectly 
quiet. 

A  new  terror  seized  upon  the  mother. 

1  My  baby  is  not — what  you   call   it  ? f  going 


ai8  BLACK  ROCK 

through  the  form  of  baptism.  '  An*  he  will  not 
come  to  la  sainte  Vierge,'  she  said,  crossing  her- 
self. 

'Do  not  fear  for  your  little  one,'  said  Mrs. 
Mavor,  still  with  her  arms  about  her.  '  The  good 
Saviour  will  take  your  darling  into  His  own  arms.' 

But  the  mother  would  not  be  comforted  by 
this.  And  Slavin  too,  was  uneasy. 

•Where  is  Father  Goulet?'  he  asked. 

'  Ah !  you  were  not  good  to  the  holy  pere  de 
las  tarn,  Michael,'  she  replied  sadly.  '  The  saints 
are  not  please  for  you.1 

I  Where  is  the  priest  ? '  he  demanded. 

'I  know  not  for  sure.  At  de  Landin',  dat's 
lak.' 

I 1  '11  go  for  him,'  he  said.     But  his  wife  clung 
to  him,  beseeching  him  not  to  leave  her,  and 
indeed  he  was  loth  to  leave  his  little  one. 

I  found  Craig  and  told  him  the  difficulty. 
With  his  usual  promptness,  he  was  ready  with 
a  solution. 

'Nixon  has  a  team.  He  will  go.'  Then  he 
added, '  I  wonder  if  they  would  not  like  me  to 
baptize  their  little  one.  Father  Goulet  and  I 
have  exchanged  offices  before  now.  I  remember 


WHAT  CAME  TO  SLAVIN  aig 

how  he  came  to  one  of  my  people  in  my  absence, 
when  she  was  dying,  read  with  her,  prayed  with 
her,  comforted  her,  and  helped  her  across  the  river. 
He  is  a  good  soul,  and  has  no  nonsense  about 
him.  Send  for  me  if  you  think  there  is  need.  It 
will  make  no  difference  to  the  baby,  but  it  will 
comfort  the  mother.' 

Nixon  was  willing  enough  to  go  ;  but  when  he 
came  to  the  door  Mrs.  Mavor  saw  the  hard  look 
in  his  face.  He  had  not  forgotten  his  wrong,  for 
day  by  day  he  was  still  fighting  the  devil  within 
that  Slavin  had  called  to  life.  But  Mrs.  Mavor, 
under  cover  of  getting  him  instructions,  drew  him 
into  the  room.  While  listening  to  her,  his  eyes 
wandered  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  group  till 
they  rested  upon  the  little  white  face  in  the  crib. 
She  noticed  the  change  in  his  face. 

'They  fear  the  little  one  will  never  see  the 
Saviour  if  it  is  not  baptized,'  she  said,  in  a  low 
tone. 

He  was  eager  to  go. 

1 1  '11  do  my  best  to  get  the  priest,'  he  said,  and 
was  gone  on  his  sixty  miles'  race  with  death. 

The  long  afternoon  wore  on,  but  before  it  was 
half  gone  I  saw  Nixon  could  not  win,  and  that 


220  BLACK  ROCK 

the  priest  would  be  too  late,  so  I  sent  for  Mr. 
Craig.  From  the  moment  he  entered  the  room 
he  took  command  of  us  all.  He  was  so  simple, 
so  manly,  so  tender,  the  hearts  of  the  parents 
instinctively  turned  to  him. 

As  he  was  about  to  proceed  with  the  baptism, 
the  mother  whispered  to  Mrs.  Mavor,  who  hesitat- 
ingly asked  Mr.  Craig  if  he  would  object  to  using 
holy  water. 

'  To  me  it  is  the  same  as  any  other,'  he  replied 
gravely. 

'  An'  will  he  make  the  good  sign  ? '  asked  the 
mother  timidly. 

And  so  the  child  was  baptized  by  the  Presby- 
terian minister  with  holy  water  and  with  the  sign 
of  the  cross.  I  don't  suppose  it  was  orthodox, 
and  it  rendered  chaotic  some  of  my  religious 
notions,  but  I  thought  more  of  Craig  that  moment 
than  ever  before.  He  was  more  man  than  minister, 
or  perhaps  he  was  so  good  a  minister  that  day 
because  so  much  a  man.  As  he  read  about  the 
Saviour  and  the  children  and  the  disciples  who 
tried  to  get  in  between  them,  and  as  he  told  us 
the  story  in  his  own  simple  and  beautiful  way, 
and  then  went  on  to  picture  the  home  of  the  little 


WHAT  CAME  TO  SLAVIN  221 

children,  and  the  same  Saviour  in  the  midst  of 
them,  I  felt  my  heart  grow  warm,  and  I  could 
easily  understand  the  cry  of  the  mother — 

*  Oh,  mon  Je"su,  prenez  moi  aussi,  take  me  wiz 
mon  mignon.' 

The  cry  wakened  Slavin's  heart,  and  he  said 
huskily— 

'Oh!  Annette!  Annette!' 

'Ah,  oui !  an*  Michael  too ! '  Then  to  Mr. 
Craig— 

'  You  tink  He 's  tak  me  some  day  ?     Eh  ? ' 

'All  who  love  Him,'  he  replied. 

'  An'  Michael  too  ? '  she  asked,  her  eyes  search- 
ing his  face.  '  An*  Michael  too  ? ' 

But  Craig  only  replied :  '  All  who  love  Him.' 

'  Ah,  Michael,  you  must  pray  le  bon  Je'su.  He 's 
garde  notre  mignon.'  And  then  she  bent  over 
the  babe,  whispering — 

'  Ah,  mon  cheri,  mon  amour,  adieu  I  adieu ! 
mon  ange ! '  till  Slavin  put  his  arms  about  her 
and  took  her  away,  for  as  she  was  whispering  her 
farewells,  her  baby,  with  a  little  answering  sigh, 
passed  into  the  House  with  many  rooms. 

'  Whisht,  Annette  darlin' ;  don't  cry  for  the 
baby,'  said  her  husband.  'Shure  it's  better  off 


22*  BLACK  ROCK 

than  the  rest  av  us,  it  is.  An'  didn't  ye  hear  what 
the  minister  said  about  the  beautiful  place  it  is? 
An'  shure  he  wouldn't  lie  to  us  at  all.'  But  a 
mother  cannot  be  comforted  for  her  first-born  son. 

An  hour  later  Nixon  brought  Father  GouleL 
He  was  a  little  Frenchman  with  gentle  manners 
and  the  face  of  a  saint.  Craig  welcomed  him 
warmly,  and  told  him  what  he  had  done. 

'  That  is  good,  my  brother,'  he  said,  with  gentle 
courtesy,  and,  turning  to  the  mother, '  Your  little 
one  is  safe.' 

Behind  Father  Goulet  came  Nixon  softly,  and 
gazed  down  upon  the  little  quiet  face,  beautiful 
with  the  magic  of  death.  Slavin  came  quietly 
and  stood  beside  him.  Nixon  turned  and  offered 
his  hand.  But  Slavin  said,  moving  slowly  back — 

'  I  did  ye  a  wrong,  Nixon,  an'  it 's  a  sorry  man 
I  am  this  day  for  it* 

'Don't  say  a  word,  Slavin,'  answered  Nixon, 
hurriedly.  *  I  know  how  you  feel  I  've  got  a 
baby  too.  I  want  to  see  it  again.  That 's  why 
the  break  hurt  me  so.' 

'As  God's  above,'  replied  Slavin  earnestly, Til 
hinder  ye  no  more.'  They  shook  hands,  and  we 
passed  out 


WHAT  CAME  TO  SLAVIN  223 

We  laid  the  baby  under  the  pines,  not  far  from 
Billy  Breen,  and  the  sweet  spring  wind  blew 
through  the  Gap,  and  came  softly  down  the 
valley,  whispering  to  the  pines  and  the  grass  and 
the  hiding  flowers  of  the  New  Life  coming  to  the 
world.  And  the  mother  must  have  heard  the 
whisper  in  her  heart,  for,  as  the  Priest  was  saying 
the  words  of  the  Service,  she  stood  with  Mrs. 
Mavor's  arms  about  her,  and  her  eyes  were  looking 
far  away  beyond  the  purple  mountain-tops,  seeing 
what  made  her  smile.  And  Slavin,  too,  looked 
different.  His  very  leatures  seemed  finer.  The 
coarseness  was  gone  out  of  his  face.  What  had 
come  to  him  I  could  not  tell. 

But  when  the  doctor  came  into  Slavin's  house 
that  night  it  was  the  old  Slavin  I  saw,  but  with 
a  look  of  such  deadly  fury  on  his  face  that  I 
tried  to  get  the  doctor  out  at  once.  But  he 
was  half  drunk  and  after  his  manner  was 
hideously  humorous. 

'  How  do,  ladies !  How  do,  gentlemen  ! '  was  his 
loud-voiced  salutation.  'Quite  a  professional 
gathering,  clergy  predominating.  Lion  and  Lamb 
too,  ha!  ha!  which  is  the  lamb,  eh?  ha!  ha! 
very  good !  awfully  sorry  to  hear  of  your  loss, 


224  BLACK  ROCK 

Mrs.  Slavin  ;  did  our  best  you  know,  can 't  help 
this  sort  of  thing.1 

Before  any  one  could  move,  Craig  was  at  his 
side,  and  saying  in  a  clear,  firm  voice,  'One 
moment,  doctor,'  caught  him  by  the  arm  and 
had  him  out  of  the  room  before  he  knew  it 
Slavin,  who  had  been  crouching  in  his  chair 
with  hands  twitching  and  eyes  glaring,  rose  and 
followed,  still  crouching  as  he  walked.  I  hurried 
after  him,  calling  him  back.  Turning  at  my  voice, 
the  doctor  saw  Slavin  approaching.  There  was 
something  so  terrifying  in  his  swift  noiseless 
crouching  motion,  that  the  doctor,  crying  out 
in  fear  'Keep  him  off,'  fairly  turned  and  fled. 
He  was  too  late.  Like  a  tiger  Slavin  leaped 
upon  him  and  without  waiting  to  strike  had 
him  by  the  throat  with  both  hands,  and  bearing 
him  to  the  ground,  worried  him  there  as  a  dog 
might  a  cat. 

Immediately  Craig  and  I  were  upon  him, 
but  though  we  lifted  him  clear  off  the  ground 
we  could  not  loosen  that  two-handed  strang- 
ling grip.  As  we  were  struggling  there  a  light 
hand  touched  my  shoulder.  It  was  Father 
Goulet. 


WHAT  CAME  TO  SLAVIN  125 

1  Please  let  him  go,  and  stand  away  from  us,' 
he  said,  waving  us  back.  We  obeyed.  He 
leaned  over  Slavin  and  spoke  a  few  words  to 
him.  Slavin  started  as  if  struck  a  heavy  blow, 
Soked  up  at  the  priest  with  fear  in  his  face,  but 
still  keeping  his  grip. 

'  Let  him  go,'  said  the  priest.  Slavin  hesitated. 
'  Let  him  go !  quick  1 '  said  the  priest  again,  and 
Slavin  with  a  snarl  let  go  his  hold  and  stood 
sullenly  facing  the  priest. 

Father  Goulet  regarded  him  steadily  for  some 
seconds  and  then  asked — 

'  What  would  you  do  ? '  His  voice  was  gentle 
enough,  even  sweet,  but  there  was  something  in 
it  that  chilled  my  marrow.  'What  would  you 
do  ? '  he  repeated. 

'  He  murdered  my  child/  growled  Slavia 

'Ah!  how?' 

'  He  was  drunk  and  poisoned  him.' 

'Ah!  who  gave  him  drink?  Who  made  him 
a  drunkard  two  years  ago?  Who  has  wrecked 
his  life?1 

There  was  no  answer,  and  the  even-toned  voice 
went  relentlessly  on — 

1  Who  is  the  murderer  of  your  child  now  ? ' 
P 


226  BLACK  ROCK 

Slavin  groaned  and  shuddered. 

'  Go ! '  and  the  voice  grew  stern.  '  Repent  of 
your  sin  and  add  not  another.' 

Slavin  turned  his  eyes  upon  the  motionless 
figure  on  the  ground  and  then  upon  the  priest. 
Father  Goulet  took  one  step  towards  him,  and, 
stretching  out  his  hand  and  pointing  with  his 
finger,  said — 

'Gol' 

And  Slavin  slowly  backed  away  and  went  into 
his  house.  It  was  an  extraordinary  scene,  and 
it  is  often  with  me  now :  the  dark  figure  on  the 
ground,  the  slight  erect  form  of  the  priest  with 
outstretched  arm  and  finger,  and  Slavin  backing 
away,  fear  and  fury  struggling  in  his  face. 

It  was  a  near  thing  for  the  doctor,  however, 
and  two  minutes  more  of  that  grip  would  have 
done  for  him.  As  it  was,  we  had  the  greatest 
difficulty  in  reviving  him. 

What  the  priest  did  with  Slavin  after  getting 
him  inside  I  know  not ;  that  has  always  been 
a  mystery  to  me.  But  when  we  were  passing 
the  saloon  that  night  after  taking  Mrs.  Mavor 
home,  we  saw  a  light  and  heard  strange  sounds 
within.  Entering,  we  found  another  whisky 


WHAT  CAME  TO  SLAVIN  aa; 

raid  In  progress,  Slavin  himself  being  the  raider. 
We  stood  some  moments  watching  him  knocking 
in  the  heads  of  casks  and  emptying  bottles.  I 
thought  he  had  gone  mad,  and  approached  him 
cautiously. 

1  Hello,  Slavin ! '  I  called  out ;  *  what  does  this 
mean  ? ' 

He  paused  in  his  strange  work,  and  I  saw  that 
his  face,  though  resolute,  was  quiet  enough. 

'  It  means  I  'm  done  wid  the  business,  I  am,' 
he  said,  in  a  determined  voice.  '  I  '11  help  no 
more  to  kill  any  man,  or,'  in  a  lower  tone,  '  any 
man's  baby.'  The  priest's  words  had  struck  home. 

'  Thank  God,  Slavin ! '  said  Craig,  offering  his 
hand ;  '  you  are  much  too  good  a  man  for  the 
business.' 

'Good  or  bad,  I'm  done  wid  it,'  he  replied, 
going  on  with  his  work. 

1  You  are  throwing  away  good  money,  Slavin,' 
I  said,  as  the  head  of  a  cask  crashed  in. 

'It's  meself  that  knows  it,  for  the  price  of 
whisky  has  riz  in  town  this  week,'  he  answered, 
giving  me  a  look  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye. 
'  Bedad  !  it  was  a  rare  clever  job,'  referring  to  our 
Black  Rock  Hotel  affair. 


328  BLACK  ROCK 

'  But  won't  you  be  sorry  for  this  ? '  asked  Craig. 

'Beloike  I  will;  an*  that's  why  I'm  doin'  it 
before  I  'm  sorry  for  it,'  he  replied,  with  a  de- 
lightful bull. 

1  Look  here,  Slavin,'  said  Craig  earnestly ;  '  if 
I  can  be  of  use  to  you  in  any  way,  count  on  me.' 

'  It 's  good  to  me  the  both  of  yez  have  been,  an' 
I'll  not  forget  it  to  yez,'  he  replied,  with  like 
earnestness. 

As  we  told  Mrs.  Mavor  that  night,  for  Craig 
thought  it  too  good  to  keep,  her  eyes  seemed 
to  grow  deeper  and  the  light  in  them  to  glow 
more  intense  as  she  listened  to  Craig  pouring 
out  his  tale.  Then  she  gave  him  her  hand  and 
said — 

'  You  have  your  man  at  last' 

'  What  man  ?  ' 

1  The  man  you  have  been  waiting  for/ 

'  Slavin  1' 

•Why  not?' 

'  I  never  thought  of  it' 

1  No  more  did  he,  nor  any  of  us.'  Then,  after 
a  pause,  she  added  gently, '  He  has  been  sent  to 
us.' 

1  Do  you  know,  I  believe  you  are  right*  Craig 


WHAT  CAME  TO  SLAVIN  *a9 

said  slowly,  and  then  added,  'But  you  always 
are.' 

1 1  fear  not,1  she  answered ;  but  I  thought  she 
liked  to  hear  his  words. 

The  whole  town  was  astounded  next  morning 
when  Slavin  went  to  work  in  the  mines,  and  its 
astonishment  only  deepened  as  the  days  went  on, 
and  he  stuck  to  his  work.  Before  three  weeks 
had  gone  the  League  had  bought  and  remodelled 
the  saloon  and  had  secured  Slavin  as  Resident 
Manager. 

The  evening  of  the  reopening  of  Slavin's 
saloon,  as  it  was  still  called,  was  long  remembered 
in  Black  Rock.  It  was  the  occasion  of  the  first 
appearance  of 'The  League  Minstrel  and  Dra- 
matic Troupe,'  in  what  was  described  as  a  '  hair- 
lifting  tragedy  with  appropriate  musical  selections.1 
Then  there  was  a  grand  supper  and  speeches  and 
great  enthusiasm,  which  reached  its  climax  when 
Nixon  rose  to  propose  the  toast  of  the  evening — 
1  Our  Saloon.'  His  speech  was  simply  a  quiet, 
manly  account  of  his  long  struggle  with  the 
deadly  enemy.  When  he  came  to  speak  of  his 
recent  defeat  he  said — 

'  And  while  I  am  blaming  no  one  but  myself,  I 


230  BLACK  ROCK 

am  glad  to-night  that  this  saloon  is  on  our  side, 
for  my  own  sake  and  for  the  sake  of  those  who 
have  been  waiting  long  to  see  me.  But  before  I 
sit  down  I  want  to  say  that  while  I  live  I  shall 
not  forget  that  I  owe  my  life  to  the  man  that 
took  me  that  night  to  his  own  shack  and  put  me 
in  his  own  bed,  and  met  me  next  morning  with 
an  open  hand  ;  for  I  tell  you  I  had  sworn  to  God 
that  that  morning  would  be  my  last.' 

Geordie's  speech  was  characteristic.  After  a 
brief  reference  to  the  'mysteerious  ways  o' 
Providence/  which  he  acknowledged  he  might 
sometimes  fail  to  understand,  he  went  on  to 
express  his  unqualified  approval  of  the  new 
saloon. 

'It's  a  cosy  place,  an'  there's  nae  sulphur 
aboot.  Besides  a'  that,'  he  went  on  enthusi- 
astically, '  it  '11  be  a  terrible  savin'.  I  've  juist 
been  coontin'.' 

'You  bet!'  ejaculated  a  voice  with  great 
emphasis. 

'  I  've  juist  been  coontin','  went  on  Geordie, 
ignoring  the  remark  and  the  laugh  which  followed, 
1  an'  it 's  an  awfu'-like  money  ye  pit  ower  wi'  the 
whusky.  Ye  see  ye  canna  dae  wi'  ane  bit  glass ; 


WHAT  CAME  TO  SLAVIN  §31 

ye  maun  hae  twa  or  three  at  the  verra  least,  for 
it 's  no  verra  forrit  ye  get  wi'  ane  glass.  But  wi' 
yon  coffee  ye  juist  get  a  saxpence-worth  an'  ye 
want  nae  mair.1 

There  was  another  shout  of  laughter,  which 
puzzled  Geordie  much. 

1 1  dinna  see  the  jowk,  but  I  've  slippit  ower  in 
whusky  mair  nor  a  hunner  dollars.' 

Then  he  paused,  looking  hard  before  him,  and 
twisting  his  face  into  extraordinary  shapes  till  the 
men  looked  at  him  in  wonder. 

'I'm  rale  glad  o'  this  saloon,  but  it's  ower 
late  for  the  lad  that  canna  be  helpit  the  noo. 
He'll  not  be  needin*  help  o'  oors,  I  doot,  but 
there  are  ithers ' — and  he  stopped  abruptly  and 
sat  down,  with  no  applause  following. 

But  when  Slavin,  our  saloon-keeper,  rose  to 
reply,  the  men  jumped  up  on  the  seats  and  yelled 
till  they  could  yell  no  more.  Slavin  stood, 
evidently  in  trouble  with  himself,  and  finally 
broke  out — 

'It's  spacheless  I  am  entirely.  What's  come 
to  me  I  know  not,  nor  how  it 's  come.  But  I  '11 
do  my  best  for  yez.'  And  then  the  yelling  broke 
out  again. 


132  BLACK  ROCK 

I  did  not  yell  myself.  I  was  too  busy  watching 
the  varying  lights  in  Mrs.  Mayor's  eyes  as  she 
looked  from  Craig  to  the  yelling  men  on  the 
benches  and  tables,  and  then  to  Slavin,  and  I 
found  myself  wondering  If  she  knew  what  it  was 
that  came  to  Slavia 


THE  TWO  CALLS 


CHAPTER    XI 

THE  TWO  CALLS 

WITH  the  call  to  Mr.  Craig  I  fancy  I  had  some- 
thing to  do  myself.  The  call  came  from  a  young 
congregation  in  an  eastern  city,  and  was  based 
partly  upon  his  college  record  and  more  upon  the 
advice  of  those  among  the  authorities  who  knew 
his  work  in  the  mountains.  But  I  flatter  myself 
that  my  letters  to  friends  who  were  of  importance 
in  that  congregation  were  not  without  influence, 
for  I  was  of  the  mind  that  the  man  who  could 
handle  Black  Rock  miners  as  he  could  was  ready 
for  something  larger  than  a  mountain  mission. 
That  he  would  refuse  I  had  not  imagined,  though 
I  ought  to  have  known  him  better.  He  was 
but  little  troubled  over  it  He  went  with  the  call 
and  the  letters  urging  his  acceptance  to  Mrs. 
Mavor.  I  was  putting  the  last  touches  to  some  of 
my  work  in  the  room  at  the  back  of  Mrs.  Mayor's 


236  BLACK  ROCK 

house  when  he  came  in.  She  read  the  letters 
and  the  call  quietly,  and  waited  for  him  to  speak. 

'Well?'  he  said  ;  '  should  I  go?f 

She  started,  and  grew  a  little  pale.  His  question 
suggested  a  possibility  that  had  not  occurred  to 
her.  That  he  could  leave  his  work  in  Black  Rock 
she  had  hitherto  never  imagined  ;  but  there  was 
other  work,  and  he  was  fit  for  good  work  anywhere. 
Why  should  he  not  go?  I  saw  the  fear  in  her 
face,  but  I  saw  more  than  fear  in  her  eyes,  as  for 
a  moment  or  two  she  let  them  rest  upon  Craig's 
face.  I  read  her  story,  and  I  was  not  sorry  for 
either  of  them.  But  she  was  too  much  a  woman 
to  show  her  heart  easily  to  the  man  she  loved, 
and  her  voice  was  even  and  calm  as  she  answered 
his  question. 

'  Is  this  a  very  large  congregation  ?  * 

'  One  of  the  finest  in  all  the  East,'  I  put  in  for 
him.  '  It  will  be  a  great  thing  for  Craig.' 

Craig  was  studying  her  curiously.  I  think  she 
noticed  his  eyes  upon  her,  for  she  went  on  even 
more  quietly— 

1  It  will  be  a  great  chance  for  work,  and  you 
are  able  for  a  larger  sphere,  you  know,  than  poor 
Black  Rock  affords.' 


THE  TWO  CALLS  tj7 

1  Who  will  take  Black  Rock  ? '  he  asked 

1  Let  some  other  fellow  have  a  try  at  it,'  I  said. 
'Why  should  you  waste  your  talents  here?' 

1  Waste  ? '  cried  Mrs.  Mavor  indignantly. 

•Well,  "bury,"  if  you  like  it  better,'  I  replied 

'  It  would  not  take  much  of  a  grave  for  that 
funeral/  said  Craig,  smiling. 

'Oh/  said  Mrs.  Mavor,  'you  will  be  a  great 
man  I  know,  and  perhaps  you  ought  to  go 
now.' 

But  he  answered  coolly :  '  There  are  fifty  men 
wanting  that  Eastern  charge,  and  there  is  only 
one  wanting  Black  Rock,  and  I  don't  think  Black 
Rock  is  anxious  for  a  change,  so  I  have  deter- 
mined to  stay  where  I  am  yet  a  while.* 

Even  my  deep  disgust  and  disappointment  did 
not  prevent  me  from  seeing  the  sudden  leap  of 
joy  in  Mrs.  Mayor's  eyes,  but  she,  with  a  great 
effort,  answered  quietly — 

'  Black  Rock  will  be  very  glad,  and  some  of  us 
very,  very  glad.' 

Nothing  could  change  his  mind.  There  was 
no  one  he  knew  who  could  take  his  place  just 
now,  and  why  should  he  quit  his  work?  It 
annoyed  me  considerably  to  feel  he  was  right 


*3»  BLACK  ROCK 

Why  is  it  that  the  right  things  are  so  frequently 
unpleasant? 

And  if  I  had  had  any  doubt  about  the  matter 
next  Sabbath  evening  would  have  removed  it. 
For  the  men  came  about  him  after  the  service 
and  let  him  feel  in  their  own  way  how  much  they 
approved  his  decision,  though  the  self-sacrifice 
involved  did  not  appeal  to  them.  They  were  too 
truly  Western  to  imagine  that  any  inducements 
the  East  could  offer  could  compensate  for  his  loss 
of  the  West.  It  was  only  fitting  that  the  West 
should  have  the  best,  and  so  the  miners  took 
almost  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  certainly  as 
their  right,  that  the  best  man  they  knew  should 
stay  with  them.  But  there  were  those  who  knew 
how  much  of  what  most  men  consider  worth 
while  he  had  given  up,  and  they  loved  him  no 
less  for  it 

Mrs.  Mavor's  call  was  not  so  easily  disposed  of. 
It  came  close  upon  the  other,  and  stirred  Black 
Rock  as  nothing  else  had  ever  stirred  it  before. 

I  found  her  one  afternoon  gazing  vacantly  at 
some  legal  documents  spread  out  before  her  on 
the  table,  and  evidently  overcome  by  their  con- 
tents. There  was  first  a  lawyer's  letter  informing 


THE  TWO  CALLS  t39 

her  that  by  the  death  of  her  husband's  father  she 
had  come  into  the  whole  of  the  Mavor  estates, 
and  all  the  wealth  pertaining  thereto.  The  letter 
asked  for  instructions,  and  urged  an  immediate 
return  with  a  view  to  a  personal  superintendence 
of  the  estates.  A  letter,  too,  from  a  distant 
cousin  of  her  husband  urged  her  immediate 
return  for  many  reasons,  but  chiefly  on  account 
of  the  old  mother  who  had  been  left  alone  with 
none  nearer  of  kin  than  himself  to  care  for  her 
and  cheer  her  old  age. 

With  these  two  came  another  letter  from  her 
mother-in-law  herself.  The  crabbed,  trembling 
characters  were  even  more  eloquent  than  the 
words  with  which  the  letter  closed. 

'I  have  lost  my  boy,  and  now  my  husband 
is  gone,  and  I  am  a  lonely  woman.  I  have 
many  servants,  and  some  friends,  but  none  near 
to  me,  none  so  near  and  dear  as  my  dead  son's 
wife.  My  days  are  not  to  be  many.  Come  to 
me,  my  daughter ;  I  want  you  and  Lewis's  child.' 

' Must  I  go?'  she  asked  with  white  lips. 

'  Do  you  know  her  well  ? '  I  asked. 

'  I  only  saw  her  once  or  twice,'  she  answered  ; 
'but  she  has  been  very  good  to  me.' 


240  BI  -iCK  ROCK 

'She  can  hardly  need  you.  She  has  friends. 
And  surely  you  are  needed  here,' 

She  looked  at  me  eagerly. 

'  Do  you  think  so  ? '  she  said. 

'Ask  any  man  in  the  camp — Shaw,  Nixon, 
young  Winton,  Geordie.  Ask  Craig,'  I  replied. 

4  Yes,  he  will  tell  me,'  she  said. 

Even  as  she  spoke  Craig  came  up  the  steps.  I 
passed  into  my  studio  and  went  on  with  my  work, 
for  my  days  at  Black  Rock  were  getting  few,  and 
many  sketches  remained  to  be  filled  in. 

Through  my  open  door  I  saw  Mrs.  Mavor  lay 
her  letters  before  Mr.  Craig,  saying, '  I  have  a  call 
too.'  They  thought  not  of  me. 

He  went  through  the  papers,  carefully  laid 
them  down  without  a  word  while  she  waited 
anxiously,  almost  impatiently,  for  him  to  speak. 

'  Well  ? '  she  asked,  using  his  own  words  to  her ; 
'should  I  go?' 

'I  do  not  know/  he  replied;  'that  is  for  you 
to  decide — you  know  all  the  circumstances/ 

« The  letters  tell  all.'  Her  tone  carried  a  feel- 
ing of  disappointment  He  did  not  appear  to 
care. 

'  The  estates  are  large  ? '  he  asked. 


THE  TWO  CALLS  141 

'  Yes,  large  enough — twelve  thousand  a  year.' 

'And  has  your  mother-in-law  any  one  with 
her?' 

'  She  has  friends,  but,  as  she  says,  none  near  of 
kin.  Her  nephew  looks  after  the  works — iron 
works,  you  know — he  has  shares  in  them.* 

'She  is  evidently  very  lonely,'  he  answered 
gravely. 

'What  shall  I  do?'  she  asked,  and  I  knew  she 
was  waiting  to  hear  him  urge  her  to  stay ;  but  he 
did  not  see,  or  at  least  gave  no  heed. 

'I  cannot  say,'  he  repeated  quietly.  'There 
are  many  things  to  consider ;  the  estates ' 

'  The  estates  seem  to  trouble  you,'  she  replied, 
almost  fretfully.  He  looked  up  in  surprise.  I 
wondered  at  his  slowness. 

'Yes,  the  estates,'  he  went  on,  'and  tenants, 
I  suppose — your  mother-in-law,  your  little  Mar- 
jorie's  future,  your  own  future.' 

'The  estates  are  in  capable  hands,  I  should 
suppose,'  she  urged, '  and  my  future  depends  upon 
what  I  choose  my  work  to  be.' 

'  But  one  cannot  shift  one's  responsibilities,'  he 
replied  gravely.  'These  estates,  these  tenants, 
have  come  to  you,  and  with  them  come  duties.' 

Q 


*4»  BLACK  ROCK 

1 1  do  not  want  them,'  she  cried. 

'That  life  has  great  possibilities  of  good,'  he 
said  kindly. 

'  I  had  thought  that  perhaps  there  was  work 
for  me  here,'  she  suggested  timidly. 

'  Great  work,'  he  hastened  to  say.  '  You  have 
done  great  work.  But  you  will  do  that  wherever 
you  go.  The  only  question  is  where  your  work  lies.' 

1  You  think  I  should  go/  she  said  suddenly  and 
a  little  bitterly. 

'  I  cannot  bid  you  stay,'  he  answered  steadily. 

1  How  can  I  go  ? '  she  cried,  appealing  to  him. 
'Must  I  go?' 

How  he  could  resist  that  appeal  I  could  not 
understand.  His  face  was  cold  and  hard,  and  his 
voice  was  almost  harsh  as  he  replied — 

'  If  it  is  right,  you  will  go — you  must  go/ 

Then  she  burst  forth — 

'I  cannot  go.  I  shall  stay  here.  My  work  is 
here ;  my  heart  is  here.  How  can  I  go  ?  You 
thought  it  worth  your  while  to  stay  here  and 
work,  why  should  not  I  ? ' 

The  momentary  gleam  in  his  eyes  died  out, 
and  again  he  said  coldly — 

4  This  work  was  clearly  mine.  I  am  needed  here.' 


THE  TWO  CALLS  143 

'Yes,  yes!'  she  cried,  her  voice  full  of  pain; 
'you  are  needed,  but  there  is  no  need  of 
me.' 

Stop,  stop ! '  he  said  sharply ;  '  you  must  not 
say  so.' 

'  I  will  say  it,  I  must  say  it,'  she  cried,  her  voice 
vibrating  with  the  intensity  of  her  feeling.  '  I 
know  you  do  not  need  me ;  you  have  your  work, 
your  miners,  your  plans  ;  you  need  no  one ;  you 
are  strong.  But,'  and  her  voice  rose  to  a  cry, '  I 
am  not  strong  by  myself;  you  have  made  me 
strong.  I  came  here  a  foolish  girl,  foolish  and 
selfish  and  narrow.  God  sent  me  grief.  Three 
years  ago  my  heart  died.  Now  I  am  living  again. 
I  am  a  woman  now,  no  longer  a  girl.  You  have 
done  this  for  me.  Your  life,  your  words,  yourself 
— you  have  showed  me  a  better,  a  higher  life,  than 
I  had  ever  known  before,  and  now  you  send  me 
away.' 

She  paused  abruptly. 

'Blind,  stupid  fool !'  I  said  to  myself. 

He  held  himself  resolutely  in  hand,  answering 
carefully,  but  his  voice  had  lost  its  coldness  and 
was  sweet  and  kind. 

'  Have  I  done  this  for  you  ?     Then  surely  God 


244  BLACK  ROCK 

has  been  good  to  me.  And  you  have  helped  me 
more  than  any  words  could  tell  you.' 

1  Helped  ! '  she  repeated  scornfully. 

'Yes,  helped,'  he  answered,  wondering  at  her 
scorn. 

'You  can  do  without  my  help,'  she  went  on. 
'You  make  people  help  you.  You  will  get  many 
to  help  you  ;  but  I  need  help,  too.'  She  was 
standing  before  him  with  her  hands  tightly 
clasped  ;  her  face  was  pale,  and  her  eyes  deeper 
than  ever.  He  sat  looking  up  at  her  in  a  kind  of 
maze  as  she  poured  out  her  words  hot  and  fast 

'  I  am  not  thinking  of  you.'  His  coldness  had 
hurt  her  deeply.  '  I  am  selfish  ;  I  am  thinking  of 
myself.  How  shall  I  do?  I  have  grown  to 
depend  on  you,  to  look  to  you.  It  is  nothing  to 

you  that  I  go,  but  to  me '  She  did  not  dare 

to  finish. 

By  this  time  Craig  was  standing  before  her,  his 
face  deadly  pale.  When  she  came  to  the  end 
of  her  words,  he  said,  in  a  voice  low,  sweet,  and 
thrilling  with  emotion — 

'  Ah,  if  you  only  knew !  Do  not  make  me  forget 
myself.  You  do  not  guess  what  you  are  doing.' 

'  What  am  I  doing  ?    What  is  there  to  know, 


THE  TWO  CALLS  *4S 

but  that  you  tell  me  easily  to  go?'  She  was 
struggling  with  the  tears  she  was  too  proud  to  let 
him  see. 

He  put  his  hands  resolutely  behind  him,  look- 
ing at  her  as  if  studying  her  face  for  the  first 
time.  Under  his  searching  look  she  dropped  her 
eyes,  and  the  warm  colour  came  slowly  up  into 
her  neck  and  face ;  then,  as  if  with  a  sudden 
resolve,  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  his,  and  looked 
back  at  him  unflinchingly. 

He  started,  surprised,  drew  slowly  near,  put  his 
hands  upon  her  shoulders,  surprise  giving  place 
to  wild  joy.  She  never  moved  her  eyes;  they 
drew  him  towards  her.  He  took  her  face  between 
his  hands,  smiled  into  her  eyes,  kissed  her  lips. 
She  did  not  move ;  he  stood  back  from  her,  threw 
up  his  head,  and  laughed  aloud.  She  came  to 
him,  put  her  head  upon  his  breast,  and  lifting  up 
her  face  said,  '  Kiss  me.'  He  put  his  arms  about 
her,  bent  down  and  kissed  her  lips  again,  and 
then  reverently  her  brow.  Then  putting  her 
back  from  him,  but  still  holding  both  her  hands, 
he  cried — 

'  No  1  you  shall  not  go.    I  shall  never  let  you 


246  BLACK  ROCK 

She  gave  a  little  sigh  of  content,  and,  smiling 
up  at  him,  said — 

*  I  can  go  now ' ;  but  even  as  she  spoke  the  flush 
died  from  her  face,  and  she  shuddered. 

'  Never ! '  he  almost  shouted  ;  '  nothing  shall 
take  you  away.  We  shall  work  here  together/ 

'Ah,  if  we  could,  if  we  only  could,'  she  said 
piteously. 

'  Why  not?  '  he  demanded  fiercely. 

'  You  will  send  me  away.  You  will  say  it  is 
right  for  me  to  go/  she  replied  sadly. 

'  Do  we  not  love  each  other  ? '  was  his  impatient 
answer. 

1  Ah !  yes,  love/  she  said ;  '  but  love  is  not 
all/ 

'  No ! '  cried  Craig ;  '  but  love  is  the  best* 

'  Yes  ! '  she  said  sadly ;  '  love  is  the  best,  and  it 
is  for  love's  sake  we  will  do  the  best/ 

'  There  is  no  better  work  than  here.  Surely 
this  is  best/  and  he  pictured  his  plans  before  her. 
She  listened  eagerly. 

'  Oh !  if  it  should  be  right/  she  cried, '  I  will  do 
what  you  say.  You  are  good,  you  are  wise,  you 
shall  tell  me/ 

She  could  not  have  recalled  him  better.     He 


THE  TWO  CALLS  247 

stood  silent  some  moments,  then  burst  out 
passionately — 

'  Why  then  has  love  come  to  us  ?  We  did  not 
seek  it  Surely  love  is  of  God.  Does  God  mock 
us?' 

He  threw  himself  into  his  chair,  pouring  out  his 
words  of  passionate  protestation.  She  listened, 
smiling,  then  came  to  him  and,  touching  his  hair 
as  a  mother  might  her  child's,  said — 

*  Oh,  I  am  very  happy  1  I  was  afraid  you  would 
not, care,  and  I  could  not  bear  to  go  that  way.1 

'You  shall  not  go,'  he  cried  aloud,  as  if  in  pain. 
'  Nothing  can  make  that  right* 

But  she  only  said, '  You  shall  tell  me  to-morrow. 
You  cannot  see  to-night,  but  you  will  see,  and  you 
will  tell  me.' 

He  stood  up  and,  holding  both  her  hands, 
looked  long  into  her  eyes,  then  turned  abruptly 
away  and  wen .  out. 

She  stood  where  he  left  her  for  some  moments, 
her  face  radiant,  and  her  han  J(t  pressed  upon  her 
heart  Then  she  came  toward  my  room.  She 
found  me  busy  with  my  painting,  but  as  I  looked 
up  and  met  her  eyes  she  flushed  slightly,  and 
said — 


24*  BLACK  ROCK 

'  I  quite  forgot  you.' 

'  So  it  appeared  to  me.' 

•You  heard?' 

'And  saw,'  I  replied  boldly.  'It  would  have 
been  rude  to  interrupt,  you  see.' 

'  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  and  thankful.' 

'  Yes  ;  it  was  rather  considerate  of  me/ 

'Oh,  I  don't  mean  that,'  the  flush  deepening; 
'  I  am  glad  you  know.' 

'  I  have  known  some  time.' 

'  How  could  you  ?     I  only  knew  to-day  myself.' 

'  I  have  eyes.'     She  flushed  again. 

'Do  you  mean  that  people '  she  began 

anxiously. 

4  No  ;  I  am  not  "  people."  I  have  eyes,  and  my 
eyes  have  been  opened,' 

'  Opened  ? ' 

'  Yes,  by  love.' 

Then  I  told  her  openly  how,  weeks  ago,  I 
struggled  with  my  heart  and  mastered  it,  for  I 
saw  it  was  vain  to  love  her,  because  she  loved  a 
better  man  who  loved  her  in  return.  She  looked 
at  me  shyly  and  said— 

'  I  am  sorry.' 

'Don't  worry,'   I   said   cheerfully.     'I   didn't 


THE  TWO  CALLS  24, 

• 

break   my  heart,  you    know ;    I   stopped    it  in 
time.' 

'  Oh  ! '  she  said,  slightly  disappointed  ;  then  her 
lips  began  to  twitch,  and  she  went  off  into  a  fit  of 
hysterical  laughter. 

'  Forgive  me,'  she  said  humbly ;  '  but  you  speak 
as  if  it  had  been  a  fever.' 

'Fever  is  nothing  to  it,'  I  said  solemnly.  'It 
was  a  near  thing.'  At  which  she  went  off  again. 
I  was  glad  to  see  her  laugh.  It  gave  me  time  to 
recover  my  equilibrium,  and  it  relieved  her  intense 
emotional  strain.  So  I  rattled  on  some  nonsense 
about  Craig  and  myself  till  I  saw  she  was  giving 
no  heed,  but  thinking  her  own  thoughts  :  and  what 
these  were  it  was  not  hard  to  guess. 
Suddenly  she  broke  in  upon  my  talk — 
'  He  will  tell  me  that  I  must  go  from  him.' 
*  I  hope  he  is  no  such  fool/  I  said  emphatically 
and  somewhat  rudely,  I  fear ;  for  I  confess  I  was 
impatient  with  the  very  possibility  of  separation 
for  these  two,  to  whom  love  meant  so  much. 
Some  people  take  this  sort  of  thing  easily  and 
some  not  so  easily ;  but  love  for  a  woman  like 
this  comes  once  only  to  a  man,  and  then  he 
carries  it  with  him  through  the  length  of  his  life, 


250  BLACK  ROCK 

and  warms  his  heart  with  it  in  death.  And  when 
a  man  smiles  or  sneers  at  such  love  as  this,  I  pity 
him,  and  say  no  word,  for  my  speech  would  be  in 
an  unknown  tongue.  So  my  heart  was  sore  as  I 
sat  looking  up  at  this  woman  who  stood  before 
me,  overflowing  with  the  joy  of  her  new  love,  and 
dully  conscious  of  the  coming  pain,  But  I  soon 
found  it  was  vain  to  urge  my  opinion  that  she 
should  remain  and  share  the  work  and  life  of  the 
man  she  loved.  She  only  answered — 

'  You  will  help  him  all  you  can,  for  it  will  hurt 
him  to  have  me  go.' 

The  quiver  in  her  voice  took  out  all  the  anger 
from  my  heart,  and  before  I  knew  I  had  pledged 
myself  to  do  all  I  could  to  help  him. 

But  when  I  came  upon  him  that  night,  sitting 
in  the  light  of  his  fire,  I  saw  he  must  be  let  alone. 
Some  battles  we  fight  side  by  side,  with  comrades 
cheering  us  and  being  cheered  to  victory ;  but 
there  are  fights  we  may  not  share,  and  these  are 
deadly  fights  where  lives  are  lost  and  won.  So  I 
could  only  lay  my  hand  upon  his  shoulder  without 
a  word.  He  looked  up  quickly,  read  my  face, 
and  said,  with  a  groan — 
You  know  ? ' 


THE  TWO  CALLS  s5i 

'  I  could  not  help  it.     But  why  groan  ? 
She    will    think    it    right    to    go/   he    said 
despairingly. 

'Then  you  must  think  for  her;  you  must 
bring  some  common-sense  to  bear  upon  the 
question/ 

'  I  cannot  see  clearly  yet,'  he  said ;  '  the  light 
will  come.' 

'  May  I  show  you  how  I  see  it  ? '  I  asked. 

'  Go  on/  he  said. 

For  an  hour  I  talked,  eloquently,  even  vehe- 
mently urging  the  reason  and  right  of  my  opinion. 
She  would  be  doing  no  more  than  every  woman 
does,  no  more  than  she  did  before ;  her  mother- 
in-law  had  a  comfortable  home,  all  that  wealth 
could  procure,  good  servants,  and  friends;  the 
estates  could  be  managed  without  her  personal 
supervision ;  after  a  few  years'  work  here  they 
would  go  east  for  little  Majorie's  education  ;  why 
should  two  lives  be  broken  ? — and  so  I  went  on. 

He  listened  carefully,  even  eagerly. 

'  You  make  a  good  case/  he  said,  with  a  slight 
smile.  '  I  will  take  time.  Perhaps  you  are  right. 
The  light  will  come.  Surely  it  will  come.  But,' 
and  here  he  sprang  up  and  stretched  his  arms  to 


2S2  BLACK  ROCK 

full  length  above  his  head,  '  I  am  not  sorry ; 
whatever  comes  I  am  not  sorry.  It  is  great  to 
have  her  love,  but  greater  to  love  her  as  I  do. 
Thank  God !  nothing  can  take  that  away.  I  am 
willing,  glad  to  suffer  for  the  joy  of  loving  her.' 

Next  morning,  before  I  was  awake,  he  was 
gone,  leaving  a  note  for  me  : — 

'  MY  DEAR  CONNOR, — I  am  due  at  the  Landing. 
When  I  see  you  again  I  think  my  way  will  be 
clear.  Now  all  is  dark.  At  times  I  am  a  coward, 
and  often,  as  you  sometimes  kindly  inform  me, 
an  ass ;  but  I  hope  I  may  never  become  a  mule. 

I  am  willing  to  be  led,  or  want  to  be,  at  any 
rate.  I  must  do  the  best — not  second  best — for 
her,  for  me.  The  best  only  is  God's  will.  What 
else  would  you  have  ?  Be  good  to  her  these  days, 
dear  old  fellow. — Yours,  CRAIG.' 

How  often  those  words  have  braced  me  he  will 
never  know,  but  I  am  a  better  man  for  them: 
'  The  best  only  is  God's  will.  What  else  would 
you  have  ? '  I  resolved  I  would  rage  and  fret  no 
more,  and  that  I  would  worry  Mrs.  Mavor  with 
no  more  argument  or  expostulation,  but,  as  my 
friend  had  asked, '  Be  good  to  her. 


LOVE  IS  NOT  ALL 


CHAPTER    XII 

LOVE  IS  NOT  ALL 

THOSE  days  when  we  were  waiting  Craig's 
return  we  spent  in  the  woods  or  on  the 
mountain  sides,  or  down  in  the  canyon  beside 
the  stream  that  danced  down  to  meet  the 
Black  Rock  river,  I  talking  and  sketching  and 
reading,  and  she  listening  and  dreaming,  with 
often  a  happy  smile  upon  her  face.  But  there 
were  moments  when  a  cloud  of  shuddering  fear 
would  sweep  the  smile  away,  and  then  I  would 
talk  of  Craig  till  the  smile  came  back  again. 

But  the  woods  and  the  mountains  and  the 
river  were  her  best,  her  wisest,  friends  during 
those  days.  How  sweet  the  ministry  of  the 
woods  to  herl  The  trees  were  in  their  new 
summer  leaves,  fresh  and  full  of  life.  They 
swayed  and  rustled  above  us,  flinging  their 
interlacing  shadows  upon  us,  and  their  swaying 


2  5«  BLACK  ROCK 

and  their  rustling  soothed  and  comforted  like 
the  voice  and  touch  of  a  mother.  And  the 
mountains,  too,  in  all  the  glory  of  their  varying 
robes  of  blues  and  purples,  stood  calmly,  solemnly 
about  us,  uplifting  our  souls  into  regions  of  rest. 
The  changing  lights  and  shadows  flitted  swiftly 
over  their  rugged  fronts,  but  left  them  ever  as 
before  in  their  steadfast  majesty.  'God's  in  His 
heaven.'  What  would  you  have  ?  And  ever  the 
little  river  sang  its  cheerful  courage,  fearing  not 
the  great  mountains  that  threatened  to  bar  its 
passage  to  the  sea.  Mrs.  Mavor  heard  the  song 
and  her  courage  rose. 

'We  too  shall  find  our  way,'  she  said,  and  I 
believed  her. 

But  through  these  days  I  could  not  make  her 
out,  and  I  found  myself  studying  her  as  I  might 
a  new  acquaintance.  Years  had  fallen  from  her ; 
she  was  a  girl  again,  full  of  young  warm  life. 
She  was  as  sweet  as  before,  but  there  was  a 
soft  shyness  over  her,  a  half-shamed,  half-frank 
consciousness  in  her  face,  a  glad  light  in  her 
eyes  that  made  her  all  new  to  me.  Her  perfect 
trust  in  Craig  was  touching  to  see. 

1  He  will  tell  me  what  to  do/  she  would  say, 


LOVE  IS  NOT  ALL  §57 

till  I  began  to  realise  how  impossible  it  would 
be  for  him  to  betray  such  trust,  and  be  anything 
but  true  to  the  best. 

So  much  did  I  dread  Craig's  home-coming, 
that  I  sent  for  Graeme  and  old  man  Nelson, 
who  was  more  and  more  Graeme's  trusted 
counsellor  and  friend.  They  were  both  highly 
excited  by  the  story  I  had  to  tell,  for  I  thought 
it  best  to  tell  them  all ;  but  I  was  not  a  little 
surprised  and  disgusted  that  they  did  not  see 
the  matter  in  my  light  In  vain  I  protested 
against  the  madness  of  allowing  anything  to  send 
these  two  from  each  other.  Graeme  summed  up 
the  discussion  in  his  own  emphatic  way,  but  with 
an  earnestness  in  his  words  not  usual  with  him. 

'  Craig  will  know  better  than  any  of  us  what 
is  right  to  do,  and  he  will  do  that,  and  no  man 
can  turn  him  from  it ;  and,'  he  added, '  I  should 
be  sorry  to  try.' 

Then  my  wrath  rose,  and  I  cried — 

'  It 's  a  tremendous  shame  1  They  love  each 
other.  You  are  talking  sentimental  humbug 
and  nonsense ! ' 

1  He  must  do  the  right/  said  Nelson  In  his 
deep,  quiet  voice. 


258  BLACK  ROCK 

'  Right  1  Nonsense  !  By  what  right  does  he 
send  from  him  the  woman  he  loves  ? ' 

' "  He  pleased  not  Himself," '  quoted  Nelson 
reverently. 

'  Nelson  is  right,'  said  Graeme.  '  I  should  not 
like  to  see  him  weaken.' 

'  Look  here,'  I  stormed ;  '  I  didn't  bring  you 
men  to  back  him  up  in  his  nonsense.  I  thought 
you  could  keep  your  heads  level.' 

'  Now,  Connor,'  said  Graeme,  '  don't  rage — leave 
that  for  the  heathen ;  it 's  bad  form,  and  useless 
besides.  Craig  will  walk  his  way  where  his  light 
falls  ;  and  by  all  that 's  holy,  I  should  hate  to  see 
him  fail ;  for  if  he  weakens  like  the  rest  of  us  my 
North  Star  will  have  dropped  from  my  sky.' 

1  Nice  selfish  spirit,'  I  muttered. 

1  Entirely  so.  I  'm  not  a  saint,  but  I  feel  like 
steering  by  one  when  I  see  him.' 

When  after  a  week  had  gone,  Craig  rode  up 
one  early  morning  to  his  shack  door,  his  face 
told  me  that  he  had  fought  his  fight  and  had  not 
been  beaten.  He  had  ridden  all  night  and  was 
ready  to  drop  with  weariness. 

'Connor,  old  boy,'  he  said,  putting  out  his 
hand  ;  '  I  'm  rather  played.  There  was  a  bad 


LOVE  IS  NOT  ALL  «S9 

row  at  the  Landing.  I  have  just  closed  poor 
Colley's  eyes.  It  was  awful.  I  must  get 
sleep.  Look  after  Dandy,  will  you,  like  a 
good  chap?' 

'  Oh,  Dandy  be  hanged  ! '  I  said,  for  I  knew  it 
ivas  not  the  fight,  nor  the  watching,  nor  the  long 
ride  that  had  shaken  his  iron  nerve  and  given 
him  that  face.  '  Go  in  and  lie  down ;  I  '11  bring 
you  something.' 

'  Wake  me  in  the  afternoon/  he  said  ;  '  she  is 
waiting.  Perhaps  you  will  go  to  her' — his  lips 
quivered — '  my  nerve  is  rather  gone.'  Then  with 
a  very  wan  smile  he  added,  '  I  am  giving  you  a 
lot  of  trouble.' 

'  You  go  to  thunder ! '  I  burst  out,  for  my 
throat  was  hot  and  sore  with  grief  for  him. 

'  I  think  I  'd  rather  go  to  sleep/  he  replied,  still 
smiling.  I  could  not  speak,  and  was  glad  of  the 
chance  of  being  alone  with  Dandy. 

When  I  came  in  I  found  him  sitting  with  his 
head  in  his  arms  upon  the  table  fast  asleep.  I 
made  him  tea,  forced  him  to  take  a  warm  bath, 
and  sent  him  to  bed,  while  I  went  to  Mrs.  Mavor. 
I  went  with  a  fearful  heart,  but  that  was  because 
I  had  forgotten  the  kind  of  woman  she  was. 


a6o  BLACK  ROCK 

She  was  standing  in  the  light  of  the  window 
waiting  for  me.  Her  face  was  pale  but  steady, 
there  was  a  proud  light  in  her  fathomless  eyes, 
a  slight  smile  parted  her  lips,  and  she  carried 
her  head  like  a  queen. 

'  Come  in,'  she  said.  '  You  need  not  fear  to  tell 
me.  I  saw  him  ride  home.  He  has  not  failed, 
thank  God  1  I  am  proud  of  him  ;  I  knew  he  would 
be  true.  He  loves  me ' — she  drew  in  her  breath 
sharply,  and  a  faint  colour  tinged  her  cheek — 
'  but  he  knows  love  is  not  all — ah,  love  is  not  all  1 
Oh  !  I  am  glad  and  proud  I* 

'  Glad  ! '  I  gasped,  amazed. 

'  You  would  not  have  him  prove  faithless  ! '  she 
said  with  proud  defiance. 

'  Oh,  it  is  high  sentimental  nonsense,'  I  could 
not  help  saying. 

'  You  should  not  say  so,'  she  replied,  and  her 
voice  rang  clear.  '  Honour,  faith,  and  duty  are 
sentiments,  but  they  are  not  nonsense.' 

In  spite  of  my  rage  I  was  lost  in  amazed 
admiration  of  the  high  spirit  of  the  woman  who 
stood  up  so  straight  before  me.  But,  as  I  told 
how  worn  and  broken  he  was,  she  listened  with 
changing  colour  and  swelling  bosom,  her  proud 


LOVE  IS  NOT  ALL  261 

courage  all  gone,  and  only  love,  anxious  and 
pitying,  in  her  eyes. 

'Shall  I  go  to  him?'  she  asked  with  timid 
eagerness  and  deepening  colour. 

'  He  is  sleeping.  He  said  he  would  come  to 
you/  I  replied. 

'  I  shall  wait  for  him/  she  said  softly,  and  the 
tenderness  in  her  tone  went  straight  to  my  heart, 
and  it  seemed  to  me  a  man  might  suffer  much  to 
be  loved  with  love  such  as  this. 

In  the  early  afternoon  Graeme  came  to  her. 
She  met  him  with  both  hands  outstretched,  say- 
ing in  a  low  voice — 

1 1  am  very  happy.' 

'  Are  you  sure  ? '  he  asked  anxiously. 

'  Oh,  yes/  she  said,  but  her  voice  was  like  a  sob; 
'quite,  quite  sure.' 

They  talked  long  together  till  I  saw  that  Craig 
must  soon  be  coming,  and  I  called  Graeme  away. 
He  held  her  hands,  looking  steadily  into  her  eyes 
and  said — 

'You  are  better  even  than  I  thought;  I'm 
going  to  be  a  better  man.' 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  but  her  smile  did  not 
fade  as  she  answered — 


26«  BLACK  ROCK 

'  Yes !  you  will  be  a  good  man,  and  God  will 
give  you  work  to  do.' 

He  bent  his  head  over  her  hands  and  stepped 
back  from  her  as  from  a  queen,  but  he  spoke  no 
word  till  we  came  to  Craig's  door.  Then  he 
said  with  humility  that  seemed  strange  in  him, 
1  Connor,  that  is  great,  to  conquer  oneself.  It  is 
worth  while.  I  am  going  to  try.' 

I  would  not  have  missed  his  meeting  with 
Craig.  Nelson  was  busy  with  tea.  Craig  was 
writing  near  the  window.  He  looked  up  as 
Graeme  came  in,  and  nodded  an  easy  good- 
evening  ;  but  Graeme  strode  to  him  and,  putting 
one  hand  on  his  shoulder,  held  out  his  other  for 
Craig  to  take. 

After  a  moment's  surprise,  Craig  rose  to  his 
feet,  and,  facing  him  squarely,  took  the  offered 
hand  in  both  of  his  and  held  it  fast  without  a 
word.  Graeme  was  the  first  to  speak,  and  his 
voice  was  deep  with  emotion — 

'  You  are  a  great  man,  a  good  man.  I  'd  give 
something  to  have  your  grit.' 

Poor  Craig  stood  looking  at  him,  not  daring 
to  speak  for  some  moments  then  he  said 
quietly — 


LOVE  IS  NOT  ALL  363 

'  Not  good  nor  great,  but,  thank  God,  not  quite 
a  traitor.' 

1  Good  man ! '  went  on  Graeme,  patting  him 
on  the  shoulder.  '  Good  man !  But  it 's  tough.' 

Craig  sat  down  quickly,  saying, '  Don't  do  that, 
old  chap ! ' 

I  went  up  with  Craig  to  Mrs.  Mayor's  door. 
She  did  not  hear  us  coming,  but  stood  near  the 
window  gazing  up  at  the  mountains.  She  was 
dressed  in  some  rich  soft  stuff,  and  wore  at  her 
breast  a  bunch  of  wild-flowers.  I  had  never  seem 
her  so  beautiful.  I  did  not  wonder  that  Craig 
paused  with  his  foot  upon  the  threshold  to  look 
at  her.  She  turned  and  saw  us.  With  a  glad 
cry,  '  Oh !  my  darling ;  you  have  come  to  me,' 
she  came  with  outstretched  arms.  I  turned  and 
fled,  but  the  cry  and  the  vision  were  long  with  me. 

It  was  decided  that  night  that  Mrs.  Mavor 
should  go  the  next  week.  A  miner  and  his  wife 
were  going  east,  and  I  too  would  join  the  party. 

The  camp  went  into  mourning  at  the  news ; 
but  it  was  understood  that  any  display  of  grief 
before  Mrs.  Mavor  was  bad  form.  She  was  not 
to  be  annoyed. 

But  when  I  suggested  that  she  should  leave 


264  BLACK  ROCK 

quietly,  and  avoid  the  pain  of  saying  good-bye, 
she  flatly  refused — 

1 1  must  say  good-bye  to  every  man.  They 
love  me  and  I  love  them.' 

It  was  decided,  too,  at  first,  that  there  should 
be  nothing  in  the  way  of  a  testimonial,  but  when 
Craig  found  out  that  the  men  were  coming  to  her 
with  all  sorts  of  extraordinary  gifts,  he  agreed 
that  it  would  be  better  that  they  should  unite  in 
one  gift.  So  it  was  agreed  that  I  should  buy 
a  ring  for  her.  And  were  it  not  that  the  con- 
tributions were  strictly  limited  to  one  dollar, 
the  purse  that  Slavin  handed  her  when  Shaw 
read  the  address  at  the  farewell  supper  would 
have  been  many  times  filled  with  the  gold  that 
was  pressed  upon  the  committee.  There  were  no 
speeches  at  the  supper,  except  one  by  myself  in 
reply  on  Mrs.  Mavor's  behalf.  She  had  given  me 
the  words  to  say,  and  I  was  thoroughly  prepared, 
else  I  should  not  have  got  through.  I  began  in 
the  usual  way :  '  Mr.  Chairman,  ladies  and  gentle- 
men, Mrs.  Mavor  is '  but  I  got  no  further,  for 

at  the  mention  of  her  name  the  men  stood  on  the 
chairs  and  yelled  until  they  could  yell  no  more. 
There  were  over  two  hundred  and  fifty  of  them,  and 


LOVE  IS  NOT  ALL  965 

the  effect  was  overpowering.  But  I  got  through 
my  speech.  I  remember  it  well.  It  began — 

'Mrs.  Mavor  is  greatly  touched  by  this  mark 
of  your  love,  and  she  will  wear  your  ring  always 
with  pride.'  And  it  ended  with — 

'  She  has  one  request  to  make,  that  you  will  be 
true  to  the  League,  and  that  you  stand  close 
about  the  man  who  did  most  to  make  it  She 
wishes  me  to  say  that  however  far  away  she  may 
have  to  go,  she  is  leaving  her  heart  in  Black  Rock, 
and  she  can  think  of  no  greater  joy  than  to  come 
back  to  you  again.' 

Then  they  had  'The  Sweet  By  and  By,'  but 
the  men  would  not  join  in  the  refrain,  unwilling 
to  lose  a  note  of  the  glorious  voice  they  loved  to 
hear.  Before  the  last  verse  she  beckoned  to  me. 
I  went  to  her  standing  by  Craig's  side  as  he 
played  for  her.  'Ask  them  to  sing,'  she  entreated  ; 
'  I  cannot  bear  it' 

*  Mrs.  Mavor  wishes  you  to  sing  in  the  refrain,' 
I  said,  and  at  once  the  men  sat  up  and  cleared 
their  throats.  The  singing  was  not  good,  but  at 
the  first  sound  of  the  hoarse  notes  of  the  man 
Craig's  head  went  down  over  the  organ,  for  he 
was  thinking  I  suppose  of  the  days  before  them 


266  BLACK  ROCK 

when  they  would  long  in  vain  for  that  thrilling 
voice  that  soared  high  over  their  own  hoarse 
tones.  And  after  the  voices  died  away  he  kept 
on  playing  till,  half  turning  toward  him,  she  sang 
alone  once  more  the  refrain  in  a  voice  low  and 
sweet  and  tender,  as  if  for  him  alone.  And  so  he 
took  it,  for  he  smiled  up  at  her  his  old  smile  full 
of  courage  and  full  of  love. 

Then  for  one  whole  hour  she  stood  saying 
good-bye  to  those  rough,  gentle -hear ted  men 
whose  inspiration  to  goodness  she  had  been  for 
five  years.  It  was  very  wonderful  and  very  quiet 
It  was  understood  that  there  was  to  be  no 
nonsense,  and  Abe  had  been  heard  to  declare 
that  he  would  '  throw  out  any  cotton-backed  fool 
who  couldn't  hold  himself  down,1  and  further,  he 
had  enjoined  them  to  remember  that  'her  arm 
wasn't  a  pump-handle.' 

At  last  they  were  all  gone,  all  but  her  guard  of 
honour — Shaw,  Vernon  Winton,  Geordie,  Nixon, 
Abe,  Nelson,  Craig,  and  myself. 

This  was  the  real  farewell ;  for,  though  in  the 
early  light  of  the  next  morning  two  hundred  men 
stood  silent  about  the  stage,  and  then  as  it  moved 
oat  waved  their  hats  and  yelled  madly,  this  was 


LOVE  IS  NOT  ALL  s6y 

the  last  touch  they  had  of  her  hand.  Her  place 
was  up  on  the  driver's  seat  between  Abe  and  Mr. 
Craig,  who  held  little  Marjorie  on  his  knee.  The 
rest  of  the  guard  of  honour  were  to  follow  with 
Graeme's  team.  It  was  Winton's  fine  sense  that 
kept  Graeme  from  following  them  close.  '  Let 
her  go  out  alone/  he  said,  and  so  we  held  back 
and  watched  her  go. 

She  stood  with  her  back  towards  Abe's  plung- 
ing four-horse  team,  and  steadying  herself  with 
one  hand  on  Abe's  shoulder,  gazed  down  upon 
as.  Her  head  was  bare,  her  lips  parted  in  a 
smile,  her  eyes  glowing  with  their  own  deep 
light ;  and  so,  facing  us,  erect  and  smiling,  she 
drove  away,  waving  us  farewell  till  Abe  swung 
his  team  into  the  canyon  road  and  we  saw  her  no 
more.  A  sigh  shuddered  through  the  crowd,  and, 
with  a  sob  in  his  voice,  Winton  said  :  '  God  help 
us  all.' 

I  close  my  eyes  and  see  it  all  again.  The 
waving  crowd  of  dark-faced  men,  the  plunging 
horses,  and,  high  up  beside  the  driver,  the 
swaying,  smiling,  waving  figure,  and  about  all 
the  mountains,  framing  the  picture  with  their 
dark  sides  and  white  peaks  tipped  with  the  gold 


2 68  BLACK  ROCK 

of  the  rising  sun.  It  is  a  picture  I  love  to  look 
upon,  albeit  it  calls  up  another  that  I  can  never 
see  but  through  tears. 

I  look  across  a  strip  of  ever-widening  water,  at 
a  group  of  men  upon  the  wharf,  standing  with 
heads  uncovered,  every  man  a  hero,  though  not  a 
man  of  them  suspects  it,  least  of  all  the  man  who 
stands  in  front,  strong,  resolute,  self-conquered. 
And,  gazing  long,  I  think  I  see  him  turn  again  to 
his  place  among  the  men  of  the  mountains,  not 
forgetting,  but  every  day  remembering  the  great 
love  that  came  to  him,  and  remembering,  too, 
that  love  is  not  all.  It  is  then  the  tears  come. 

But  for  that  picture  two  of  us  at  least  are 
better  men  to-day. 


HOW  NELSON  CAME  HOME 


CHAPTER    XIII 

HOW  NELSON   CAME  HOME 

THROUGH  the  long  summer  the  mountains  and 
the  pines  were  with  me.  And  through  the 
winter,  too,  busy  as  I  was  filling  in  my  Black 
Rock  sketches  for  the  railway  people  who  would 
still  persist  in  ordering  them  by  the  dozen,  the 
memory  of  that  stirring  life  would  come  over 
me,  and  once  more  I  would  be  among  the  silent 
pines  and  the  mighty  snow-peaked  mountains. 
And  before  me  would  appear  the  red-shirted 
shantymen  or  dark-faced  miners,  great,  free,  bold 
fellows,  driving  me  almost  mad  with  the  desire  to 
seize  and  fix  those  swiftly  changing  groups  of 
picturesque  figures.  At  such  times  I  would  drop 
my  sketch,  and  with  eager  brush  seize  a  group, 
a  face,  a  figure,  and  that  is  how  my  studio  comes 
to  be  filled  with  the  men  of  Black  Rock.  There 
they  are  all  about  me  Graeme  and  the  men 

m 


273  BLACK  ROCK 

from  the  woods,  Sandy,  Baptiste,  the  Campbells, 
and  in  many  attitudes  and  groups  old  man 
Nelson ;  Craig,  too,  and  his  miners,  Shaw, 
Geordie,  Nixon,  and  poor  old  Billy  and  the 
keeper  of  the  League  saloon. 

It  seemed  as  if  I  lived  among  them,  and  the 
illusion  was  greatly  helped  by  the  vivid  letters 
Graeme  sent  me  from  time  to  time.  Brief  notes 
came  now  and  then  from  Craig  too,  to  whom  I 
had  sent  a  faithful  account  of  how  I  had  brought 
Mrs.  Mavor  to  her  ship,  and  of  how  I  had 
watched  her  sail  away  with  none  too  brave 
a  face,  as  she  held  up  her  hand  that  bore  the 
miners'  ring,  and  smiled  with  that  deep  light 
in  her  eyes.  Ah !  those  eyes  have  driven  me 
to  despair  and  made  me  fear  that  I  am  no 
great  painter  after  all,  in  spite  of  what  my 
friends  tell  me  who  come  in  to  smoke  my  good 
cigars  and  praise  my  brush.  I  can  get  the  brow 
and  hair,  and  mouth  and  pose,  but  the  eyes !  the 
eyes  elude  me — and  the  faces  of  Mrs.  Mavor  on 
my  wall,  that  the  men  praise  and  rave  over,  are 
not  such  as  I  could  show  ta  any  of  the  men 
from  the  mountains. 

Graeme's  letters   tell   me  chiefly  about   Craig 


HOW  NELSON  CAME  HOME          173 

and  his  doings,  and  about  old  man  Nelson ; 
while  from  Craig  I  hear  about  Graeme,  and  how 
he  and  Nelson  are  standing  at  his  back,  and  doing 
what  they  can  to  fill  the  gap  that  never  can  be 
filled.  The  three  are  much  together,  I  can  see, 
and  I  am  glad  for  them  all,  but  chiefly  for  Craig, 
whose  face,  grief-stricken  but  resolute,  and  often 
gentle  as  a  woman's,  will  not  leave  me  nor  let  me 
rest  in  peace. 

The  note  of  thanks  he  sent  me  was  entirely 
characteristic.  There  were  no  heroics,  much  less 
pining  or  self-pity.  It  was  simple  and  manly, 
not  ignoring  the  pain  but  making  much  of  the 
joy.  And  then  they  had  their  work  to  do.  That 
note,  so  clear,  so  manly,  so  nobly  sensible,  stiffens 
my  back  yet  at  times. 

In  the  spring  came  the  startling  news  that 
Black  Rock  would  soon  be  no  more.  The  mines 
were  to  close  down  on  April  i.  The  company, 
having  allured  the  confiding  public  with  enticing 
descriptions  of  marvellous  drifts,  veins,  assays, 
and  prospects,  and  having  expended  vast  sums 
of  the  public's  money  in  developing  the  mines 
till  the  assurance  of  their  reliability  was  absolutely 
final,  calmly  shut  down  and  vanished.  With  their 


274  BLACK  ROCK 

vanishing  vanishes  Black  Rock,  not  without  loss 
and  much  deep  cursing  on  the  part  of  the  men 
brought  some  hundreds  of  miles  to  aid  the 
company  in  its  extraordinary  and  wholly  inex- 
plicable game. 

Personally  it  grieved  me  to  think  that  my  plan 
of  returning  to  Black  Rock  could  never  be  carried 
out.  It  was  a  great  compensation,  however,  that 
the  three  men  most  representative  to  me  of 
that  life  were  soon  to  visit  me  actually  in  my 
own  home  and  den.  Graeme's  letter  said  that 
in  one  month  they  might  be  expected  to  appear. 
At  least  he  and  Nelson  were  soon  to  come,  and 
Craig  would  soon  follow. 

On  receiving  the  great  news,  I  at  once  looked 
up  young  Nelson  and  his  sister,  and  we  proceeded 
to  celebrate  the  joyful  prospect  with  a  specially 
good  dinner.  I  found  the  greatest  delight  in 
picturing  the  joy  and  pride  of  the  old  man  «n  his 
children,  whom  he  had  not  seen  for  fifteen  or 
sixteen  years.  The  mother  had  died  some  five 
years  before,  then  the  farm  was  sold,  and  the 
brother  and  sister  came  into  the  city ;  and  any 
father  might  be  proud  of  them.  The  son  was  a 
well-made  youngfellow,handsome  enough,thought- 


HOW  NELSON  CAME  HOME  275 

ful,  and  solid-looking.  The  girl  reminded  me  of 
her  father.  The  same  resolution  was  seen  in 
mouth  and  jaw,  and  the  same  passion  slumbered 
in  the  dark  grey  eyes.  She  was  not  beautiful, 
but  she  carried  herself  well,  and  one  would 
always  look  at  her  twice.  It  would  be  worth 
something  to  see  the  meeting  between  father 
and  daughter. 

But  fate,  the  greatest  artist  of  us  all,  takes 
little  count  of  the  careful  drawing  and  the  bright 
colouring  of  our  fancy's  pictures,  but  with  rude 
hand  deranges  all,  and  with  one  swift  sweep 
paints  out  the  bright  and  paints  in  the  dark. 
And  this  trick  he  served  me  when,  one  June 
night,  after  long  and  anxious  waiting  for  some 
word  from  the  west,  my  door  suddenly  opened 
and  Graeme  walked  in  upon  me  like  a  spectre, 
grey  and  voiceless.  My  shout  of  welcome  was 
choked  back  by  the  look  in  his  face,  and  I  could 
only  gaze  at  him  and  wait  for  his  word.  He 
gripped  my  hand,  tried  to  speak,  but  failed  to 
make  words  come. 

'  Sit  down,  old  man,'  I  said,  pushing  him  into 
my  chair, '  and  take  your  time.' 

H«  obeyed,  looking  up  at  me  with  burning, 


276  BLACK  ROCK 

sleepless  eyes.  My  heart  was  sore  for  his  misery, 
and  I  said :  '  Don't  mind,  old  chap ;  it  can't 
be  so  awfully  bad.  You  're  here  safe  and  sound 
at  any  rate,'  and  so  I  went  on  to  give  him 
time.  But  he  shuddered  and  looked  round  and 
groaned. 

'  Now  look  here,  Graeme,  let 's  have  it  When 
did  you  land  here?  Where  is  Nelson?  Why 
didn't  you  bring  him  up?' 

'  He  is  at  the  station  in  his  coffin,'  he  answered 
slowly. 

'  In  his  coffin?'  I  echoed,  my  beautiful  pictures 
all  vanishing.  '  How  was  it?' 

'  Through  my  cursed  folly,'  he  groaned  bitterly. 

'What  happened?'  I  asked.  But  ignoring  my 
question,  he  said :  '  I  must  see  his  children.  I 
have  not  slept  for  four  nights.  I  hardly  know 
what  I  am  doing ;  but  I  can't  rest  till  I  see  his 
children.  I  promised  him.  Get  them  for  me.' 

'  To-morrow  will  do.  Go  to  sleep  now,  and  we 
shall  arrange  everything  to-morrow,'  I  urged. 

'  No !'  he  said  fiercely  ;  'to-night — now !' 

In  half  an  hour  they  were  listening,  pale  and 
grief-stricken,  to  the  story  of  their  father's 
death. 


HOW  NELSON  CAME  HOME          277 

Poor  Graeme  was  relentless  in  his  self-con- 
demnation as  he  told  how,  through  his  '  cursed 
folly,'  old  Nelson  was  killed.  The  three,  Craig, 
Graeme,  and  Nelson,  had  come  as  far  as  Victoria 
together.  There  they  left  Craig,  and  came  on  to 
San  Francisco.  In  an  evil  hour  Graeme  met  a 
companion  of  other  and  evil  days,  and  it  was  not 
long  till  the  old  fever  came  upon  him. 

In  vain  Nelson  warned  and  pleaded.  The  re- 
action from  the  monotony  and  poverty  of  camp 
life  to  the  excitement  and  luxury  of  the  San 
Francisco  gaming  palaces  swung  Graeme  quite 
off  his  feet,  and  all  that  Nelson  could  do  was  to 
follow  from  place  to  place  and  keep  watch. 

'And  there  he  would  sit/  said  Graeme  in  a 
hard,  bitter  voice,  'waiting  and  watching  often 
till  the  grey  morning  light,  while  my  madness 
held  me  fast  to  the  table.  One  night/  here  he 
paused  a  moment,  put  his  face  in  his  hands 
and  shuddered ;  but  quickly  he  was  master  of 
himself  again,  and  went  on  in  the  same  hard 
voice — '  One  night  my  partner  and  I  were  playing 
two  men  who  had  done  us  up  before.  I  knew  they 
were  cheating,  but  could  not  detect  them.  Game 
after  game  they  won,  till  I  was  furious  at  my 


278  BLACK  ROCK 

stupidity  in  not  being  able  to  catch  them 
Happening  to  glance  at  Nelson  in  the  corner,  I 
caught  a  meaning  look,  and  looking  again,  he 
threw  me  a  signal.  I  knew  at  once  what  the 
fraud  was,  and  next  game  charged  the  fellow 
with  it  He  gave  me  the  lie  ;  I  struck  his  mouth, 
but  before  I  could  draw  my  gun,  his  partner  had 
me  by  the  arms.  What  followed  I  hardly  know. 
While  I  was  struggling  to  get  free,  I  saw  him 
reach  for  his  weapon  ;  but,  as  he  drew  it,  Nelson 
sprang  across  the  table,  and  bore  him  down. 
When  the  row  was  over,  three  men  lay  on  the 
floor.  One  was  Nelson  ;  he  took  the  shot  meant 
for  me.' 

Again  the  story  paused. 

1  And  the  man  that  shot  him  ?' 

I  started  at  the  intense  fierceness  in  the  voice, 
and,  looking  upon  the  girl,  saw  her  eyes  blazing 
with  a  terrible  light 

'  He  is  dead,'  answered  Graeme  indifferently. 

'You  killed  him?'  she  asked  eagerly. 

Graeme  looked  at  her  curiously,  and  answered 
slowly — 

'  I  did  not  mean  to.  He  came  at  me.  I  struck 
him  harder  than  I  knew,  He  never  moved.' 


HOW  NELSON  CAME  HOME          279 

She  drew  a  sigh  of  satisfaction,  and  waited. 

'I  got  him  to  a  private  ward,  had  the  best 
doctor  in  the  city,  and  sent  for  Craig  to  Victoria. 
For  three  days  we  thought  he  would  live — he  was 
keen  to  get  home ;  but  by  the  time  Craig  came 
we  had  given  up  hope.  Oh,  but  I  was  thankful  to 
see  Craig  come  in,  and  the  joy  in  the  old  man's 
eyes  was  beautiful  to  see.  There  was  no  pain  at 
last,  and  no  fear.  He  would  not  allow  me  to 
reproach  myself,  saying  over  and  over,  "You 
would  have  done  the  same  for  me  " — as  I  would, 
fast  enough — "  and  it  is  better  me  than  you.  I  am 
old  and  done  ;  you  will  do  much  good  yet  for  the 
boys."  And  he  kept  looking  at  me  till  I  could 
only  promise  to  do  my  best. 

'  But  I  am  glad  I  told  him  how  much  good  he 
had  done  me  during  the  last  year,  for  he  seemed 
to  think  that  too  good  to  be  true.  And  when 
Craig  told  him  how  he  had  helped  the  boys  in 
the  camp,  and  how  Sandy  and  Baptiste  and  th« 
Campbells  would  always  be  better  men  for  his 
life  among  them,  the  old  man's  face  actually 
shone,  as  if  light  were  coming  through.  And 
with  surprise  and  joy  he  kept  on  saying,  "  Do 
you  think  so?  Do  you  think  so?  Perhaps  so, 


28o  BLACK  ROCK 

perhaps  so."  At  the  last  he  talked  of  Christmas 
night  at  the  camp.  You  were  there,  you  remember. 
Craig  had  been  holding  a  service,  and  something 
happened,  I  don't  know  what,  but  they  both 
knew.' 

'  I  know,'  I  said,  and  I  saw  again  the  picture  of 
the  old  man  under  the  pine,  upon  his  knees  in 
the  snow,  with  his  face  turned  up  to  the  stars. 

'Whatever  it  was,  it  was  in  his  mind  at  the 
very  last,  and  I  can  never  forget  his  face  as  he 
turned  it  to  Craig.  One  hears  of  such  things  :  I 
had  often,  but  had  never  put  much  faith  in  them ; 
but  joy,  rapture,  triumph,  these  are  what  were  in 
his  face,  as  he  said,  his  breath  coming  short, 
"You  said — He  wouldn't — fail  me — you  were 
right — not  once — not  once — He  stuck  to  me — I'm 
glad  he  told  me — thank  God — for  you — you 

showed — me — I'll  see  Him — and — tell  Him ' 

And  Craig,  kneeling  beside  him  so  steady — I 
was  behaving  like  a  fool — smiled  down  through 
his  streaming  tears  into  the  dim  eyes  so  brightly, 
till  they  could  see  no  more.  Thank  him  for  that! 
He  helped  the  old  man  through,  and  he  helped 
me  too,  that  night,  thank  God!'  And  Graeme's 
voke,  hard  till  now,  broke  in  a  sob. 


HOW  NELSON  CAME  HOME          a8i 

He  had  forgotten  us,  and  was  back  beside  his 
passing  friend,  and  all  his  self-control  could  not 
keep  back  the  flowing  tears. 

'  It  was  his  life  for  mine,'  he  said  huskily. 

The  brother  and  sister  were  quietly  weeping, 
but  spoke  no  word,  though  I  knew  Graeme  was 
waiting  for  them. 

I  took  up  the  word,  and  told  of  what  I  had 
known  of  Nelson,  and  his  influence  upon  the  men 
of  Black  Rock.  They  listened  eagerly  enough, 
but  still  without  speaking.  There  seemed  nothing 
to  say,  till  I  suggested  to  Graeme  that  he  must 
get  some  rest.  Then  the  girl  turned  to  him,  and, 
impulsively  putting  out  her  hand,  said — 

'  Oh,  it  is  all  so  sad  ;  but  how  can  we  ever  thank 
you?' 

'Thank  me!'  gasped  Graeme.  'Can  you  for- 
give me  ?  I  brought  him  to  his  death.' 

1  No,  no !  You  must  not  say  so,'  she  answered 
hurriedly.  '  You  would  have  done  the  same  for 
him.' 

'  God  knows  I  would,'  said  Graeme  earnestly ; 
'and  God  bless  you  for  your  words ! '  And  I  was 
thankful  to  see  the  tears  start  in  his  dry,  burning 
eyes. 


zSa  BLACK  ROCK 

We  carried  him  to  the  old  home  in  the  country, 
that  he  might  lie  by  the  side  of  the  wife  he  had 
loved  and  wronged.  A  few  friends  met  us  at  the 
wayside  station,  and  followed  in  sad  procession 
along  the  country  road,  that  wound  past  farms 
and  through  woods,  and  at  last  up  to  the  ascent 
where  the  quaint,  old  wooden  church,  black  with 
the  rains  and  snows  of  many  years,  stood  among 
its  silent  graves.  The  little  graveyard  sloped 
gently  towards  the  setting  sun,  and  from  it  one 
could  see,  far  on  every  side,  the  fields  of  grain 
and  meadowland  that  wandered  off  over  softly 
undulating  hills  to  meet  the  maple  woods  at  the 
horizon,  dark,  green,  and  cool.  Here  and  there 
white  farmhouses,  with  great  barns  standing  near, 
looked  out  from  clustering  orchards. 

Up  the  grass-grown  walk,  and  through  the 
crowding  mounds,  over  which  waves,  uncut,  the 
long,  tangling  grass,  we  bear  our  friend,  and  let 
him  gently  down  into  the  kindly  bosom  of  mother 
earth,  dark,  moist,  and  warm.  The  sound  of  a 
distant  cowbell  mingles  with  the  voice  of  the 
last  prayer ;  the  clods  drop  heavily  with  heart- 
startling  echo ;  the  mound  is  heaped  and  shaped 


HOW  NELSON  CAME  HOME  *8j 

by  kindly  friends,  sharing  with  one  another  the 
task ;  the  long  rough  sods  are  laid  over  and 
patted  into  place ;  the  old  minister  takes  fare- 
well in  a  few  words  of  gentle  sympathy;  the 
brother  and  sister,  with  lingering  looks  at  the 
two  graves  side  by  side,  the  old  and  the  new, 
step  into  the  farmer's  carriage,  and  drive  away ; 
the  sexton  locks  the  gate  and  goes  home,  and  we 
are  left  outside  alone. 

Then  we  went  back  and  stood  by  Nelson's 
grave. 

After  a  long  silence  Graeme  spoke. 

4  Connor,  he  did  not  grudge  his  life  to  me — and 
I  think* — and  here  the  words  came  slowly — 'I 
understand  now  what  that  means, "  Who  loved  me 
and  gave  Himself  for  me.'" 

Then  taking  off  his  hat,  he  said  reverently, 
1  By  God's  help  Nelson's  life  shall  not  end, 
but  shall  go  on.  Yes,  old  man  1*  looking  down 
upon  the  grave,  '  I  'm  with  you ' ;  and  lifting 
up  his  face  to  the  calm  sky,  'God  help  me  to 
be  true.' 

Then  he  turned  and  walked  briskly  away,  as 
one  might  who  had  pressing  business,  or  as 


BLACK  ROCK 

soldiers  march  from  a  comrade's  grave  to  a  merry 
tune,  not  that  they  have  forgotten,  but  they  have 
still  to  fight 

And  this  was  the  way  old  man  Nelson  came 
home. 


GRAEME'S  NEW  BIRTH 


CHAPTER  XIV 

GRAEME'S  NEW  BIRTH 

THERE  was  more  left  in  that  grave  than  old  man 
Nelson's  dead  body.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
Graeme  left  part,  at  least,  of  his  old  self  there, 
with  his  dead  friend  and  comrade,  in  the  quiet 
country  churchyard.  I  waited  long  for  the  old 
careless,  reckless  spirit  to  appear,  but  he  was 
never  the  same  again.  The  change  was  unmis« 
takable,  but  hard  to  define.  He  seemed  to  have 
resolved  his  life  into  a  definite  purpose.  He  was 
hardly  so  comfortable  a  fellow  to  be  with;  he 
made  me  feel  even  more  lazy  and  useless  than 
was  my  wont ;  but  I  respected  him  more,  and 
liked  him  none  the  less.  As  a  lion  he  was  not 
a  success.  He  would  not  roar.  This  was  dis- 
appointing to  me,  and  to  his  friends  and  mine, 
who  had  been  waiting  his  return  with  eager 
expectation  of  tales  of  thrilling  and  bloodthirsty 
adventure. 


288  BLACK  ROCK 

His  first  days  were  spent  in  making  right,  or  as 
nearly  right  as  he  could,  the  break  that  drove  him 
to  the  west  His  old  firm  (and  I  have  had  more 
respect  for  the  humanity  of  lawyers  ever  since) 
behaved  really  well.  They  proved  the  restoration 
of  their  confidence  in  his  integrity  and  ability  by 
offering  him  a  place  in  the  firm,  which,  however, 
he  would  not  accept  Then,  when  he  felt  clean,  as 
he  said,  he  posted  off  home,  taking  me  with  him. 
During  the  railway  journey  of  four  hours  he  hardly 
spoke ;  but  when  we  had  left  the  town  behind,  and 
had  fairly  got  upon  the  country  road  that  led 
toward  the  home  ten  miles  away,  his  speech 
came  to  him  in  a  great  flow.  His  spirits  ran 
over.  He  was  like  a  boy  returning  from  his  first 
college  term.  His  very  face  wore  the  boy's  open, 
innocent,  earnest  look  that  used  to  attract  men  to 
him  in  his  first  college  year.  His  delight  in  the 
fields  and  woods,  in  the  sweet  country  air  and  the 
sunlight,  was  without  bound.  How  often  had  we 
driven  this  road  together  in  the  old  days  1 

Every  turn  was  familiar.  The  swamp  where  the 
tamaracks  stood  straight  and  slim  out  of  their 
beds  of  moss ;  the  brule,  as  we  used  to  call  it, 
where  the  pine-stumps,  huge  and  blackened,  were 


GRAEME'S  NEW  BIRTH  389 

half-hidden  by  the  new  growth  of  poplars  and 
soft  maples ;  the  big  hill,  where  we  used  to  get 
out  and  walk  when  the  roads  were  bad ;  the 
orchards,  where  the  harvest  apples  were  best  and 
most  accessible — all  had  their  memories. 

It  was  one  of  those  perfect  afternoons  that  so 
often  come  in  the  early  Canadian  summer,  before 
Nature  grows  weary  with  the  heat.  The  white 
gravel  road  was  trimmed  on  either  side  with  turf 
of  living  green,  close  cropped  by  the  sheep  that 
wandered  in  flocks  along  its  whole  length.  Be- 
yond the  picturesque  snake-fences  stretched  tht 
fields  of  springing  grain,  of  varying  shades  of 
green,  with  here  and  there  a  dark  brown  patch, 
marking  a  turnip  field  or  summer  fallow,  and  far 
back  were  the  woods  of  maple  and  beech  and  elm, 
with  here  and  there  the  tufted  top  of  a  mighty 
pine,  the  lonely  representative  of  a  vanished  race, 
standing  clear  above  the  humbler  trees. 

As  we  drove  through  the  big  swamp,  where  the 
yawning,  haunted  gully  plunges  down  to  its 
gloomy  depths,  Graeme  reminded  me  of  that 
night  when  our  horse  saw  something  in  that  same 
gully,  and  refused  to  go  past ;  and  I  felt  again, 
though  it  was  broad  daylight,  something  of  the 


290  BLACK  ROCK. 

grue  that  shivered  down  my  back,  as  I  saw  in  the 
moonlight  the  gleam  of  a  white  thing  far  through 
the  pine  trunks. 

As  we  came  nearer  home  the  houses  became 
familiar.  Every  house  had  its  tale:  we  had  eaten 
or  slept  in  most  of  them  ;  we  had  sampled  apples, 
and  cherries,  and  plums  from  their  orchards, 
openly  as  guests,  or  secretly  as  marauders,  under 
cover  of  night — the  more  delightful  way,  I  fear. 
Ah  !  happy  days,  with  these  innocent  crimes  and 
fleeting  remorses,  how  bravely  we  faced  them, 
and  how  gaily  we  lived  them,  and  how  yearningly 
we  look  back  at  them  now !  The  sun  was  just 
dipping  into  the  tree-tops  of  the  distant  woods 
behind  as  we  came  to  the  top  of  the  last  hill 
that  overlooked  the  valley,  in  which  lay  the 
village  of  Riverdale.  Wooded  hills  stood  about 
it  on  three  sides,  and,  where  the  hills  faded  out, 
there  lay  the  mill-pond  sleeping  and  smiling  in 
the  sun.  Through  the  village  ran  the  white 
road,  up  past  the  old  frame  church,  and  on  to  the 
white  manse  standing  among  the  trees.  That  was 
Graeme's  home,  and  mine  too,  for  I  had  never 
known  another  worthy  of  the  name.  We  held  up 
our  team  to  look  down  over  the  valley,  with  its 


GRAEME'S  NEW  BIRTH  191 

rampart  of  wooded  hills,  its  shining  pond,  and  its 
nestling  village,  and  on  past  to  the  church  and 
the  white  manse,  hiding  among  the  trees.  The 
beauty,  the  peace,  the  warm,  loving  homeliness  of 
the  scene  came  about  our  hearts,  but,  being  men, 
we  could  find  no  words. 

*  Let 's  go/  cried  Graeme,  and  down  the  hill  we 
tore  and  rocked  and  swayed  to  the  amazement 
of  the  steady  team,  whose  education  from  the 
earliest  years  had  impressed  upon  their  minds 
the  criminality  of  attempting  to  do  anything  but 
walk  carefully  down  a  hill,  at  least  for  two-thirds 
of  the  way.  Through  the  village,  in  a  cloud  of 
dust,  we  swept,  catching  a  glimpse  of  a  well-known 
face  here  and  there,  and  flinging  a  salutation  as 
we  passed,  leaving  the  owner  of  the  face  rooted 
to  his  place  in  astonishment  at  the  sight  of 
Graeme  whirling  on  in  his  old-time,  well-known 
reckless  manner.  Only  old  Dune.  M'Leod  was 
equal  to  the  moment,  for  as  Graeme  called  out, 
1  Hello,  Dune. !'  the  old  man  lifted  up  his  hands, 
and  called  back  in  an  awed  voice:  'Bless  my 
soul!  is  it  yourself?1 

'Stands  his  whisky  well,  poor  old  chap!'  was 
Graeme's  comment. 


«93  BLACK  ROCK 

As  we  neared  the  church  he  pulled  up  his  team, 
and  we  went  quietly  past  the  sleepers  there,  then 
again  on  the  full  run  down  the  gentle  slope,  over 
the  little  brook,  and  up  to  the  gate.  He  had 
hardly  got  his  team  pulled  up  before,  flinging  me 
the  lines,  he  was  out  over  the  wheel,  for  coming 
down  the  walk,  with  her  hands  lifted  high,  was  a 
dainty  little  lady,  with  the  face  of  an  angel.  In  a 
moment  Graeme  had  her  in  his  arms.  I  heard 
the  faint  cry,  '  My  boy,  my  boy,'  and  got  down 
on  the  other  side  to  attend  to  my  off  horse,  sur- 
prised to  find  my  hands  trembling  and  my  eyes 
full  of  tears.  Back  upon  the  steps  stood  an  old 
gentleman,  with  white  hair  and  flowing  beard, 
handsome,  straight,  and  stately — Graeme's  father, 
waiting  his  turn. 

'Welcome  home,  my  lad,'  was  his  greeting, 
as  he  kissed  his  son,  and  the  tremor  of  his 
voice,  and  the  sight  of  the  two  men  kissing 
each  other,  like  women,  sent  me  again  to  my 
horses'  heads. 

'  There 's  Connor,  mother  1'  shouted  out  Graeme, 
and  the  dainty  little  lady,  in  her  black  silk  and 
white  lace,  came  out  to  me  quickly,  with  oat- 
stretched  hands. 


GRAEME'S  NEW  BIRTH  193 

'You,  too,  are  welcome  home,'  she  said,  and 
kissed  me. 

I  stood  with  my  hat  off,  saying  something  about 
being  glad  to  come,  but  wishing  that  I  could  get 
away  before  I  should  make  quite  a  fool  of  myself. 
For  as  I  looked  down  upon  that  beautiful  face, 
pale,  except  for  a  faint  flush  upon  each  faded 
cheek,  and  read  the  story  of  pain  endured  and 
conquered,  and  as  I  thought  of  all  the  long  years 
of  waiting  and  of  vain  hoping,  I  found  my  throat 
dry  and  sore,  and  the  words  would  not  come. 
But  her  quick  sense  needed  no  words,  and  she 
came  to  my  help. 

'You  will  find  Jack  at  the  stable,'  she  said 
smiling ;  '  he  ought  to  have  been  here.' 

The  stable !  Why  had  I  not  thought  of  that 
before  ?  Thankfully  now  my  words  came — 

'  Yes,  certainly,  I  '11  find  him,  Mrs.  Graeme.  I 
suppose  he's  as  much  of  a  scapegrace  as  ever,' 
and  off  I  went  to  look  up  Graeme's  young 
brother,  who  had  given  every  promise  in  the  old 
days  of  developing  into  as  stirring  a  rascal  as  one 
could  desire ;  but  who,  as  I  found  out  later,  had 
not  lived  these  years  in  his  mother's  home  for 
nothing. 


294  BLACK  ROCK 

'  Oh,  Jack 's  a  good  boy,'  she  answered,  smiling 
again,  as  she  turned  toward  the  other  two,  now 
waiting  for  her  upon  the  walk. 

The  week  that  followed  was  a  happy  one  for  us 
all;  but  for  the  mother  it  was  full  to  the  brim 
with  joy.  Her  sweet  face  was  full  of  content, 
and  in  her  eyes  rested  a  great  peace.  Our  days 
were  spent  driving  about  among  the  hills,  or 
strolling  through  the  maple  woods,  or  down  into 
the  tamarack  swamp,  where  the  pitcher  plants  and 
the  swamp  lilies  and  the  marigold  waved  above 
the  deep  moss.  In  the  evenings  we  sat  under  the 
trees  on  the  lawn  till  the  stars  came  out  and  the 
night  dews  drove  us  in.  Like  two  lovers,  Graeme 
and  his  mother  would  wander  off  together,  leaving 
Jack  and  me  to  each  other.  Jack  was  reading  for 
divinity,  and  was  really  a  fine,  manly  fellow,  with 
all  his  brother's  turn  for  rugby,  and  I  took  to 
him  amazingly ;  but  after  the  day  was  over  we 
would  gather  about  the  supper  table,  and  the  talk 
would  be  of  all  things  under  heaven — art,  foot- 
ball, theology.  The  mother  would  lead  in  all 
How  quick  she  was,  how  bright  her  fancy,  how 
subtle  her  intellect,  and  through  all  a  gentle  grace, 
very  winning  and  beautiful  to  see  1 


GRAEME'S  NEW  BIRTH  295 

Do  what  I  would,  Graeme  would  talk  little  of 
the  mountains  and  his  life  there. 

'  My  lion  will  not  roar,  Mrs.  Graeme/  I  com- 
plained ;  '  he  simply  will  not.' 

'  You  should  twist  his  tail,'  said  Jack. 

'  That  seems  to  be  the  difficulty,  Jack/  said  his 
mother,  '  to  get  hold  of  his  tale/ 

'  Oh,  mother/  groaned  Jack  ;  'you  never  did  such 
a  thing  before !  How  could  you  ?  Is  it  this  baleful 
Western  influence  ?' 

'  I  shall  reform,  Jack/  she  replied  brightly. 

1  But,  seriously,  Graeme/  I  remonstrated,  '  you 
ought  to  tell  your  people  of  your  life — that  free, 
glorious  life  in  the  mountains.' 

'  Free  1  Glorious  !  To  some  men,  perhaps !' 
said  Graeme,  and  then  fell  into  silence. 

But  I  saw  Graeme  as  a  new  man  the  night  he 
talked  theology  with  his  father.  The  old  minister 
was  a  splendid  Calvinist,  of  heroic  type,  and  as  he 
discoursed  of  God's  sovereignty  and  election,  his 
face  glowed  and  his  voice  rang  out 

Graeme  listened  intently,  now  and  then  putting 
in  a  question,  as  one  would  a  keen  knife-thrust 
into  a  foe.  But  the  old  man  knew  his  ground, 
and  moved  easily  among  his  ideas,  demolishing 


296  BLACK  ROCK 

the  enemy  as  he  appeared,  with  jaunty  grace.  In 
the  full  flow  of  his  triumphant  argument,  Graeme 
turned  to  him  with  sudden  seriousness. 

'  Look  here,  father  !  I  was  born  a  Calvinist,  and 
I  can't  see  how  any  one  with  a  level  head  can 
hold  anything  else,  than  that  the  Almighty  has 
some  idea  as  to  how  He  wants  to  run  His 
universe,  and  He  means  to  carry  out  His  idea, 
and  is  carrying  it  out ;  but  what  would  you  do  in 
a  case  like  this  ? '  Then  he  told  him  the  story  of 
poor  Billy  Breen,  his  fight  and  his  defeat 

'  Would  you  preach  election  to  that  chap  ? ' 

The  mother's  eyes  were  shining  with  tears. 

The  old  gentleman  blew  his  nose  like  a  trum- 
pet, and  then  said  gravely — 

'  No,  my  boy ,  you  don't  feed  babes  with  meat. 
But  what  came  to  him  ? ' 

Then  Graeme  asked  me  to  finish  the  tale. 
After  I  had  finished  the  story  of  Billy's  final 
triumph  and  of  Craig's  part  in  it,  they  sat  long 
silent,  till  the  minister,  clearing  his  throat  hard 
and  blowing  his  nose  more  like  a  trumpet  than 
ever,  said  with  great  emphasis — 

'  Thank  God  for  such  a  man  in  such  a  place  I 
I  wish  there  were  more  of  us  like  him.' 


GRAEME'S  NEW  BIRTH  897 

'I  should  like  to  see  you  out  there,  sir,'  said 
Graeme  admiringly;  'you'd  get  them,  but  you 
wouldn't  have  time  for  election.' 

1  Yes,  yes ! '  said  his  father  warmly  ;  '  I  should 
love  to  have  a  chance  just  to  preach  election  to 
these  poor  lads.  Would  I  were  twenty  years 
younger ! ' 

1  It  is  worth  a  man's  life,'  said  Graeme  earnestly. 
His  younger  brother  turned  his  face  eagerly 
toward  the  mother.  For  answer  she  slipped  her 
hand  into  his  and  said  softly,  while  her  eyes 
shone  like  stars — 

1  Some  day,  Jack,  perhaps  !  God  knows.'  But 
Jack  only  looked  steadily  at  her,  smiling  a  little 
and  patting  her  hand. 

'  You  'd  shine  there,  mother/  said  Graeme, 
smiling  upon  her ;  '  you  'd  better  come  with  me.' 
She  started,  and  said  faintly — 

'  With  you  ? '  It  was  the  first  hint  he  had  given 
of  his  purpose.  '  You  are  going  back  ?  ' 

'  What !  as  a  missionary  ?  '  said  Jack. 

1  Not  to  preach,  Jack ;  I  'm  not  orthodox 
enough,'  looking  at  his  father  and  shaking  his 
head  ;  '  but  to  build  railroads  and  lend  a  hand  to 
some  poor  chap,  if  I  can.' 


298  BLACK  ROCK 

1  Could  you  not  find  work  nearer  home,  my 
boy  ? '  asked  the  father ;  '  there  is  plenty  of  both 
kinds  near  us  here,  surely.' 

'  Lots  of  work,  but  not  mine,  I  fear/  answered 
Graeme,  keeping  his  eyes  away  from  his  mother's 
face.  '  A  man  must  do  his  own  work.' 

His  voice  was  quiet  and  resolute,  and  glancing 
at  the  beautiful  face  at  the  end  of  the  table,  I 
saw  in  the  pale  lips  and  yearning  eyes  that  the 
mother  was  offering  up  her  firstborn,  that 
ancient  sacrifice.  But  not  all  the  agony  of  sacri- 
fice could  wring  from  her  entreaty  or  complaint 
in  the  hearing  of  her  sons.  That  was  for  other 
ears  and  for  the  silent  hours  of  the  night.  And 
next  morning  when  she  came  down  to  meet  us 
her  face  was  wan  and  weary,  but  it  wore  the 
peace  of  victory  and  a  glory  not  of  earth.  Her 
greeting  was  full  of  dignity,  sweet  and  gentle ; 
but  when  she  came  to  Graeme  she  lingered  over 
him  and  kissed  him  twice.  And  that  was  all 
that  any  of  us  ever  saw  of  that  sore  fight 

At  the  end  of  the  week  I  took  leave  of  them, 
and  last  of  all  of  the  mother. 

She  hesitated  just  a  moment,  then  suddenly 
put  her  hands  upon  my  shoulders  and  kissed 


GRAEME'S  NEW  BIRTH  »gg 

me,  saying  softly, '  You  are  his  friend  ;  you  will 
sometimes  come  to  me  ? ' 

'  Gladly,  if  I  may/  I  hastened  to  answer,  for 
the  sweet,  brave  face  was  too  much  to  bear ;  and, 
till  she  left  us  for  that  world  of  which  she  was  a 
part,  I  kept  my  word,  to  my  own  great  and  last- 
ing good.  When  Graeme  met  me  in  the  city  at 
the  end  of  the  summer,  he  brought  me  her  love, 
and  then  burst  forth — 

1  Connor,  do  you  know,  I  have  just  discovered 
my  mother  I  I  have  never  known  her  till  this 
summer.' 

'  More  fool  you,'  I  answered,  for  often  had  I, 
who  had  never  known  a  mother,  envied  him 
his. 

'Yes,  that  is  true/  he  answered  slowly;  'but 
you  cannot  see  until  you  have  eyes.' 

Before  he  set  out  again  for  the  west  I  gave 
him  a  supper,  asking  the  men  who  had  been  with 
us  in  the  old  'Varsity  days.  I  was  doubtful  as 
to  the  wisdom  of  this,  and  was  persuaded  only 
by  Graeme's  eager  assent  to  my  proposal. 

'  Certainly,  let 's  have  them/  he  said  ;  '  I  shall 
be  awfully  glad  to  see  them ;  great  stuff  they 
were.' 


300  BLACK  ROCK 

'  But,  I  don't  know,  Graeme  ;  you  see — well- 
hang  it  1 — you  know— -you  're  different,  you 
know.' 

He  looked  at  me  curiously. 

'  I  hope  I  can  still  stand  a  good  supper,  and  if 
the  boys  can't  stand  me,  why,  I  can't  help  it 
I  '11  do  anything  but  roar,  and  don't  you  begin 
to  work  off  your  menagerie  act — now,  you  hear 
me!' 

'  Well,  it  is  rather  hard  lines  that  when  I  have 
been  talking  up  my  lion  for  a  year,  and  then 
finally  secure  him,  that  he  will  not  roar.' 

'  Serve  you  right,'  he  replied,  quite  heartlessly ; 
'  but  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  '11  do,  I  '11  feed !  Don't 
you  worry,'  he  adds  soothingly ;  '  the  supper  will 

go.' 

And  go  it  did.  The  supper  was  of  the  best ; 
the  wines  first-class.  I  had  asked  Graeme  about 
the  wines. 

'  Do  as  you  like,  old  man,'  was  his  answer ; '  it 's 
your  supper,  but,'  he  added,  '  are  the  men  all 
straight  ? ' 

I  ran  them  over  in  my  mind. 

1  Yes  ;  I  think  so.' 

'  If  not,  don't  you  help  them  down  ;  and  any- 


GRAEME'S  NEW  BIRTH  301 

way,  you  can't  be  too  careful.  But  don't  mind 
me ;  I  am  quit  of  the  whole  business  from  this 
out.'  So  I  ventured  wines,  for  the  last  time,  as  it 
happened. 

We  were  a  quaint  combination.  Old  '  Beetles,' 
whose  nickname  was  prophetic  of  his  future  fame 
as  a  bugman,  as  the  fellows  irreverently  said  ; 
'  Stumpy '  Smith,  a  demon  bowler ;  Polly  Lind- 
say, slow  as  ever  and  as  sure  as  when  he  held  the 
half-back  line  with  Graeme,  and  used  to  make 
my  heart  stand  still  with  terror  at  his  cool  de- 
liberation. But  he  was  never  known  to  fumble 
nor  to  funk,  and  somehow  he  always  got  us  out 
safe  enough.  Then  there  was  Rattray — 'Rat' 
for  short — who,  from  a  swell,  had  developed  into 
a  cynic  with  a  sneer,  awfully  clever  and  a  good 
enough  fellow  at  heart.  Little  'Wig'  Martin, 
the  sharpest  quarter  ever  seen,  and  big  Barney 
Lundy,  centre  scrimmage,  whose  terrific  roar  and 
rush  had  often  struck  terror  to  the  enemy's 
heart,  and  who  was  Graeme's  slave.  Such  was 
the  party. 

As  the  supper  went  on  my  fears  began  to 
vanish,  for  if  Graeme  did  not  '  roar,'  he  did  the 
next  best  thing — ate  and  talked  quite  up  to  his 


BLACK  ROCK 

old  form.  Now  we  played  our  matches  over 
again,  bitterly  lamenting  the  '  if s '  that  had  lost 
us  the  championships,  and  wildly  approving  the 
tackles  that  had  saved,  and  the  runs  that  had 
made  the  'Varsity  crowd  go  mad  with  delight 
and  had  won  for  us.  And  as  their  names  came 
up  in  talk,  we  learned  how  life  had  gone  with 
those  who  had  been  our  comrades  of  ten  years 
ago.  Some,  success  had  lifted  to  high  places ; 
some,  failure  had  left  upon  the  rocks,  and  a  few 
lay  in  their  graves. 

But  as  the  evening  wore  on,  I  began  to  wish 
that  I  had  left  out  the  wines,  for  the  men  began 
to  drop  an  occasional  oath,  though  I  had  let 
them  know  during  the  summer  that  Graeme  was 
not  the  man  he  had  been.  But  Graeme  smoked 
and  talked  and  heeded  not,  till  Rattray  swore 
by  that  name  most  sacred  of  all  ever  borne 
by  man.  Then  Graeme  opened  upon  him  in  a 
cool,  slow  way— 

'  What  an  awful  fool  a  man  is,  to  damn  things 
as  you  do,  Rat  Things  are  not  damned.  It  is 
men  who  are ;  and  that  is  too  bad  to  be  talked 
much  about  But  when  a  man  flings  out  of  his 
foul  mouth  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ ' — here  he 


GRAEME'S  NEW  BIRTH  303 

lowered  his  voice — '  it 's  a  shame — it 's  more,  it 's 
a  crime.' 

There  was  dead  silence,  then  Rattray  replied — 

'  I  suppose  you  're  right  enough,  it  is  bad  form  ; 
but  crime  is  rather  strong,  I  think.' 

1  Not  if  you  consider  who  it  is/  said  Graeme 
with  emphasis. 

'  Oh,  come  now/  broke  in  Beetles.  '  Religion 
is  all  right,  is  a  good  thing,  and  I  believe  a  neces- 
sary thing  for  the  race,  but  no  one  takes  seriously 
any  longer  the  Christ  myth.' 

'What  about  your  mother,  Beetles?'  put  in 
Wig  Martin. 

Beetles  consigned  him  to  the  pit  and  was 
silent,  for  his  father  was  an  Episcopal  clergyman, 
and  his  mother  a  saintly  woman. 

'  I  fooled  with  that  for  some  time,  Beetles,  but 
it  won't  do.  You  can't  build  a  religion  that  will 
take  the  devil  out  of  a  man  on  a  myth.  That 
won't  do  the  trick.  I  don't  want  to  argue  about 
it,  but  I  am  quite  convinced  the  myth  theory  is 
not  reasonable,  and  besides,  it  won't  work.' 

1  Will  the  other  work  ? '  asked  Rattray,  with  a 
sneer. 

1  Sure  ! '  said  Graeme ;  '  I  've  seen  it* 


304  BLACK  ROCK 

'  Where  ?  '  challenged  Rattray.  '  I  haven't  seen 
much  of  it* 

'  Yes,  you  have,  Rattray,  you  know  you  have/ 
said  Wig  again.  But  Rattray  ignored  him. 

'  I  '11  tell  you,  boys,'  said  Graeme.  '  I  want 
you  to  know,  anyway,  why  I  believe  what  I  do.' 

Then  he  told  them  the  story  of  old  man  Nelson, 
from  the  old  coast  days,  before  I  knew  him,  to 
the  end  He  told  the  story  well.  The  stern 
fight  and  the  victory  of  the  life,  and  the  self- 
sacrifice  and  the  pathos  of  the  death  appealed 
to  these"  men,  who  loved  fight  and  could  under- 
stand sacrifice. 

'That's  why  I  believe  in  Jesus  Christ,  and 
that 's  why  I  think  it  a  crime  to  fling  His  name 
about ! ' 

1 1  wish  to  Heaven  I  could  say  that/  said 
Beetles. 

'  Keep  wishing  hard  enough  and  it  will  come 
to  you/  said  Graeme. 

'  Look  here,  old  chap/  said  Rattray ;  '  you  're 
quite  right  about  this ;  I  'm  willing  to  own  up. 
Wig  is  correct  I  know  a  few,  at  least,  of  that 
stamp,  but  most  of  those  who  go  in  for  that  sort 
of  thing  are  not  much  account' 


GRAEME'S  NEW  BIRTH  305 

1  For  ten  years,  Rattray,'  said  Graeme  in  a 
downright,  matter-of-fact  way,  '  you  and  I  have 
tried  this  sort  of  thing ' — tapping  a  bottle — '  and 
we  got  out  of  it  all  there  is  to  be  got,  paid  well 
for  it,  too,  and — faugh  !  you  know  it 's  not  good 
enough,  and  the  more  you  go  in  for  it,  the  more 
you  curse  yourself.  So  I  have  quit  this  and  I  am 
going  in  for  the  other.' 

1  What !  going  in  for  preaching  ? ' 

'  Not  much — railroading — money  in  it — and 
lending  a  hand  to  fellows  on  the  rocks.' 

'  I  say,  don't  you  want  a  centre  forward  ? '  said 
big  Barney  in  his  deep  voice. 

I  Every  man  must  play  his  game  in  his  place, 
old  chap.     I  'd  like  to  see  you  tackle  it,  though, 
right  well,'  said  Graeme  earnestly.     And  so  he 
did,  in  the  after  years,  and  good  tackling  it  was. 
But  that  is  another  story. 

'  But,  I  say,  Graeme,'  persisted  Beetles, '  about 
this  business,  do  you  mean  to  say  you  go  the 
whole  thing — Jonah,  you  know,  and  the  r«st 
of  it?' 

Graeme  hesitated,  then  said — 

I 1  haven't  much  of  a  creed,  Beetles ;  don't 
really  know  how  much  I  believe.    But,'  by  this 


306  BLACK  ROCK 

time  he  was  standing,  '  I  do  know  that  good  is 
good,  and  bad  is  bad,  and  good  and  bad  are  not 
the  same.  And  I  know  a  man  's  a  fool  to  follow 
the  one,  and  a  wise  man  to  follow  the  other,  and/ 
lowering  his  voice,  '  I  believe  God  is  at  the  back 
of  a  man  who  wants  to  get  done  with  bad.  I  Ve 
tried  all  that  folly,'  sweeping  his  hand  over  the 
glasses  and  bottles,  '  and  all  that  goes  with  it, 
and  I  Ve  done  with  it* 

'  I  '11  go  you  that  far/  roared  big  Barney,  follow- 
ing his  old  captain  as  of  yore. 

4  Good  man/  said  Graeme,  striking  hands  with 
him. 

'  Put  me  down/  said  little  Wig  cheerfully. 

Then  I  took  up  the  word,  for  there  rose  before 
me  the  scene  in  the  League  saloon,  and  I  saw 
the  beautiful  face  with  the  deep  shining  eyes,  and 
I  was  speaking  for  her  again.  I  told  them  of 
Craig  and  his  fight  for  these  men's  lives.  I  told 
them,  too,  of  how  I  had  been  too  indolent  to 
begin.  '  But/  I  said,  '  I  am  going  this  far  from 
to-night/  and  I  swept  the  bottles  into  the  cham- 
pagne tub. 

'  I  say/  said  Polly  Lindsay,  coming  up  in  his 
old  style,  slow  but  sure,  '  let 's  all  go  in,  say  for 


GRAEME'S  NEW  BIRTH  307 

five  years.'  And  so  we  did.  We  didn't  sign 
anything,  but  every  man  shook  hands  with 
Graeme. 

And  as  I  told  Craig  about  this  a  year  later, 
when  he  was  on  his  way  back  from  his  Old  Land 
trip  to  join  Graeme  in  the  mountains,  he  threw 
up  his  head  in  the  old  way  and  said, '  It  was  well 
done.  It  must  have  been  worth  seeing.  Old 
man  Nelson's  work  is  not  done  yet.  Tell  me 
again/  and  he  made  me  go  over  the  whole  scene 
with  all  the  details  put  in. 

But  when  I  told  Mrs.  Mavor,  after  two  years 
had  gone,  she  only  said,  '  Old  things  are  passed 
away,  all  things  are  become  new  ' ;  but  the  light 
glowed  in  her  eyes  till  I  could  not  see  their 
colour.  But  all  that,  too,  is  another  story. 


COMING  TO  THEIR  OWN 


CHAPTER    XV 

COMING  TO  THEIR  OWN 

A  MAN  with  a  conscience  is  often  provoking, 
sometimes  impossible.  Persuasion  is  lost  upon 
him.  He  will  not  get  angry,  and  he  looks  at  one 
with  such  a  far-away  expression  in  his  face  that 
in  striving  to  persuade  him  one  feels  earthly  and 
even  fiendish.  At  least  this  was  my  experience 
with  Craig.  He  spent  a  week  with  me  just  before 
he  sailed  for  the  Old  Land,  for  the  purpose,  as  he 
said,  of  getting  some  of  the  coal  dust  and  other 
grime  out  of  him. 

He  made  me  angry  the  last  night  of  his  stay, 
and  all  the  more  that  he  remained  quite  sweetly 
unmoved.  It  was  a  strategic  mistake  of  mine  to 
tell  him  how  Nelson  came  home  to  us,  and  how 
Graeme  stood  up  before  the  'Varsity  chaps  at 
my  supper  and  made  his  confession  and  confused 
Rattray's  easy-stepping  profanity,  and  started 

his  own  five-year  league.     For  all  this  stirred  in 

Hi 


3i*  BLACK  ROCK 

Craig  the  hero,  and  he  was  ready  for  all  sorts  of 
heroic  nonsense,  as  I  called  it.  We  talked  of 
everything  but  the  one  thing,  and  about  that  we 
said  not  a  word  till,  bending  low  to  poke  my  fire 
and  to  hide  my  face,  I  plunged — 

1  You  will  see  her,  of  course  ? ' 

He  made  no  pretence  of  not  understanding 
but  answered — 

4  Of  course.' 

'There's  really  no  sense  in  her  staying  over 
there,'  I  suggested. 

'  And  yet  she  is  a  wise  woman,'  he  said,  as  if 
carefully  considering  the  question. 

1  Heaps  of  landlords  never  see  their  tenants, 
and  they  are  none  the  worse.' 

1  The  landlords  ? ' 

'  No,  the  tenants/ 

'  Probably,  having  such  landlords/ 

1  And  as  for  the  old  lady,  there  must  be  some 
one  in  the  connection  to  whom  it  would  be  a 
Godsend  to  care  for  her.' 

'  Now,  Connor,'  he  said  quietly,  '  don't  We 
have  gone  over  all  there  is  to  be  said.  Nothing 
new  has  come.  Don't  turn  it  all  up  again/ 

Then    I   played    the  heathen   and  raged,  as 


COMING  TO  THEIR  OWN  313 

Graeme  would  have  said,  till  Craig  smiled  a  little 
wearily  and  said — 

'  You  exhaust  yourself,  old  chap.  Have  a  pipe, 
do ' ;  and  after  a  pause  he  added  in  his  own  way, 
1  What  would  you  have  ?  The  path  lies  straight 
from  my  feet  Should  I  quit  it  ?  I  could  not  so 
disappoint  you — and  all  of  them.' 

And  I  knew  he  was  thinking  of  Graeme  and 
the  lads  in  the  mountains  he  had  taught  to  be 
true  men.  It  did  not  help  my  rage,  but  it 
checked  my  speech ;  so  I  smoked  in  silence  till 
he  was  moved  to  say — 

'And  after  all,  you  know,  old  chap,  there  are 
great  compensations  for  all  losses ;  but  for  tht 
loss  of  a  good  conscience  towards  God,  what  can 
make  up  ? ' 

But,  all  the  same,  I  hoped  for  some  better 
result  from  his  visit  to  Britain.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  something  must  turn  up  to  change  such  an 
unbearable  situation. 

The  year  passed,  however,  and  when  I  looked 
into  Craig's  face  again  I  knew  that  nothing  had 
been  changed,  and  that  he  had  come  back  to  take 
up  again  his  life  alone,  more  resolutely  hopeful 
than  ever. 


314  BLACK  ROCK 

But  the  year  had  left  its  mark  upon  him  too. 
He  was  a  broader  and  deeper  man.  He  had 
been  living  and  thinking  with  men  of  larger  ideas 
and  richer  culture,  and  he  was  far  too  quick  in 
sympathy  with  life  to  remain  untouched  by  his 
surroundings.  He  was  more  tolerant  of  opinions 
other  than  his  own,  but  more  unrelenting  in  his 
fidelity  to  conscience  and  more  impatient  of  half- 
heartedness  and  self-indulgence.  He  was  full  of 
reverence  for  the  great  scholars  and  the  great 
leaders  of  men  he  had  come  to  know. 

'  Great,  noble  fellows  they  are,  and  extraordin- 
arily modest,'  he  said — '  that  is,  the  really  great  are 
modest.  There  are  plenty  of  the  other  sort, 
neither  great  nor  modest  And  the  books  to  be 
read!  I  am  quite  hopeless  about  my  reading. 
It  gave  me  a  queer  sensation  to  shake  hands  with 
a  man  who  had  written  a  great  book.  To  hear 
him  make  commonplace  remarks,  to  witness  a 
faltering  in  knowledge — one  expects  these  men 
to  know  everything — and  to  experience  respectful 
kindness  at  his  hands ! ' 

'  What  of  the  younger  men  ?  '  I  asked. 

'  Bright,  keen,  generous  fellows.  In  things 
theoretical,  omniscient;  but  in  things  practical, 


COMING  TO  THEIR  OWN  315 

quite  helpless.  They  toss  about  great  ideas  as 
the  miners  lumps  of  coal.  They  can  call  them 
by  their  book  names  easily  enough,  but  I  often 
wondered  whether  they  could  put  them  into 
English.  Some  of  them  I  coveted  for  the  moun- 
tains. Men  with  clear  heads  and  big  hearts,  and 
built  after  Sandy  M'Naughton's  model.  It  does 
seem  a  sinful  waste  of  God's  good  human  stuff 
to  see  these  fellows  potter  away  their  lives  among 
theories  living  and  dead,  and  end  up  by  producing 
a  book !  They  are  all  either  making  or  going 
to  make  a  book.  A  good  thing  we  haven't  to 
read  them.  But  here  and  there  among  them  is 
some  quiet  chap  who  will  make  a  book  that 
men  will  tumble  over  each  other  to  read.' 

Then  we  paused  and  looked  at  each  other. 

1  Well  ? '  I  said.     He  understood  me. 

1  Yes  ! '  he  answered  slowly, '  doing  great  work. 
Every  one  worships  her  just  as  we  do,  and  she  is 
making  them  all  do  something  worth  while,  as 
she  used  to  make  us/ 

He  spoke  cheerfully  and  readily  as  if  he  were 
repeating  a  lesson  well  learned,  but  he  could  not 
humbug  me.  I  felt  the  heartache  in  the  cheerful 
tone. 


316  BLACK  ROCK 

1  Tell  me  about  her,'  I  said,  for  I  knew  that  if  he 
would  talk  it  would  do  him  good.  And  talk  he 
did,  often  forgetting  me,  till,  as  I  listened,  I  found 
myself  looking  again  into  the  fathomless  eyes, 
and  hearing  again  the  heart-searching  voice.  I 
saw  her  go  in  and  out  of  the  little  red-tiled 
cottages  and  down  the  narrow  back  lanes  of  the 
village  ;  I  heard  her  voice  in  a  sweet,  low  song  by 
the  bed  of  a  dying  child,  or  pouring  forth  floods 
of  music  in  the  great  new  hall  of  the  factory  town 
near  by.  But  I  could  not  see,  though  he  tried  to 
show  me,  the  stately  gracious  lady  receiving  the 
country  folk  in  her  home.  He  did  not  linger 
over  that  scene,  but  went  back  again  to  the  gate- 
cottage  where  she  had  taken  him  one  day  to  sec 
Billy  Breen's  mother. 

'  I  found  the  old  woman  knew  all  about  me,' 
he  said,  simply  enough  ;  '  but  there  were  many 
things  about  Billy  she  had  never  heard,  and  I 
was  glad  to  put  her  right  on  some  points,  though 
Mrs.  Mavor  would  not  hear  it.' 

He  sat  silent  for  a  little,  looking  into  the  coals ; 
then  went  on  in  a  soft,  quiet  voice — 

1  It  brought  back  the  mountains  and  thr.  old 
days  to  hear  again  Billy's  tones  in  his  mother's 


COMING  TO  THEIR  OWN  317 

voice,  and  to  see  her  sitting  there  in  the  very 
dress  she  wore  the  night  of  the  League,  you 
remember — some  soft  stuff  with  black  lace  about 
it — and  to  hear  her  sing  as  she  did  for  Billy — 
ah  !  ah  1 '  His  voice  unexpectedly  broke,  but  in 
a  moment  he  was  master  of  himself  and  begged 
me  to  forgive  his  weakness.  I  am  afraid  I  said 
words  that  should  not  be  said — a  thing  I  never 
do,  except  when  suddenly  and  utterly  upset 

'  I  am  getting  selfish  and  weak,'  he  said ;  '  I 
must  get  to  work.  I  am  glad  to  get  to  work. 
There  is  much  to  do,  and  it  is  worth  while,  if 
only  to  keep  one  from  getting  useless  and  lazy.' 

'  Useless  and  lazy  1 '  I  said  to  myself,  thinking 
of  my  life  beside  his,  and  trying  to  get  command 
of  my  voice,  so  as  not  to  make  quite  a  fool 
of  myself.  And  for  many  a  day  those  words 
goaded  me  to  work  and  to  the  exercise  of  some 
mild  self-denial.  But  more  than  all  else,  after 
Craig  had  gone  back  to  the  mountains,  Graeme's 
letters  from  the  railway  construction  camp  stirred 
one  to  do  unpleasant  duty  long  postponed,  and 
rendered  uncomfortable  my  hours  of  most  luxuri- 
ous ease.  Many  of  the  old  gang  were  with  him, 
both  of  lumbermen  and  miners,  and  Craig  was  their 


3i8  BLACK  ROCK 

minister.  And  the  letters  told  of  how  he  laboured 
by  day  and  by  night  along  the  line  of  construc- 
tion, carrying  his  tent  and  kit  with  him,  preaching 
straight  sermons,  watching  by  sick  men,  writing 
their  letters,  and  winning  their  hearts,  making 
strong  their  lives,  and  helping  them  to  die  well 
when  their  hour  came.  One  day  these  letters 
proved  too  much  for  me,  and  I  packed  away 
my  paints  and  brushes,  and  made  my  vow  unto 
the  Lord  that  I  would  be  'useless  and  lazy'  no 
longer,  but  would  do  something  with  myself.  In 
consequence,  I  found  myself  within  three  weeks 
walking  the  London  hospitals,  finishing  my  course, 
that  I  might  join  that  band  of  men  who  were 
doing  something  with  life,  or,  if  throwing  it  away, 
were  not  losing  it  for  nothing.  I  had  finished 
being  a  fool,  I  hoped,  at  least  a  fool  of  the  useless 
and  luxurious  kind.  The  letter  that  came  from 
Graeme,  in  reply  to  my  request  for  a  position  on 
his  staff,  was  characteristic  of  the  man,  both  new 
and  old,  full  of  gayest  humour  and  of  most 
earnest  welcome  to  the  work. 

Mrs.  Mavor's  reply  was  like  herself — 
1 1  knew  you  would  not  long  be  content  with 
the  making  of  pictures,  which  the  world  does  not 


COMING  TO  THEIR  OWN  319 

really  need,  and  would  join  your  friends  in  the 
dear  West,  making  lives  that  the  world  needs  so 
sorely.' 

But  her  last  words  touched  me  strangely — 

1  But  be  sure  to  be  thankful  every  day  for  your 
privilege.  ...  It  will  be  good  to  think  of  you 
all,  with  the  glorious  mountains  about  you,  and 
Christ's  own  work  in  your  hands.  .  .  .  Ah !  how 
we  would  like  to  choose  our  work,  and  the  place 
in  which  to  do  it ! ' 

The  longing  did  not  appear  in  the  words,  but  I 
needed  no  words  to  tell  me  how  deep  and  how 
constant  it  was.  And  I  take  some  credit  to  my- 
self, that  in  my  reply  I  gave  her  no  bidding  to 
join  our  band,  but  rather  praised  the  work  she 
was  doing  in  her  place,  telling  her  how  I  had 
heard  of  it  from  Craig. 

The  summer  found  me  religiously  doing  Paris 
and  Vienna,  gaining  a  more  perfect  acquaintance 
with  the  extent  and  variety  of  my  own  ignorance, 
and  so  fully  occupied  in  this  interesting  and 
wholesome  occupation  that  I  fell  out  with  all  my 
correspondents,  with  the  result  of  weeks  of  silence 
between  us. 

Two  letters  among  the  heap  waiting  on   my 


320  BLACK  ROCK 

table  in  London  made  my  heart  beat  quick,  but 
with  how  different  feelings:  one  from  Graeme 
telling  me  that  Craig  had  been  very  ill,  and  that 
he  was  to  take  him  home  as  soon  as  he  could  be 
moved.  Mrs.  Mavor's  letter  told  me  of  the  death 
of  the  old  lady,  who  had  been  her  care  for  the 
past  two  years,  and  of  her  intention  to  spend 
some  months  in  her  old  home  in  Edinburgh. 
And  this  letter  it  is  that  accounts  for  my  pre- 
sence in  a  miserable,  dingy,  dirty  little  hall 
running  off  a  close  in  the  historic  Cowgate, 
redolent  of  the  glories  of  the  splendid  past,  and 
of  the  various  odours  of  the  evil-smelling  present 
I  was  there  to  hear  Mrs.  Mavor  sing  to  the  crowd 
of  gamins  that  thronged  the  closes  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, and  that  had  been  gathered  into  a  club 
by  '  a  fine  leddie  frae  the  West  End,'  for  the  love 
of  Christ  and  His  lost.  This  was  an  '  At  Home ' 
night,  and  the  mothers  and  fathers,  sisters  and 
brothers,  of  all  ages  and  sizes  were  present.  Of 
all  the  sad  faces  I  had  ever  seen,  those  mothers 
carried  the  saddest  and  most  woe- stricken. 
1  Heaven  pity  us ! '  I  found  myself  saying  ; '  is  this 
the  beautiful,  the  cultured,  the  heaven-exalted 
city  of  Edinburgh  ?  Will  it  not,  for  this,  be  cast 


COMING  TO  THEIR  OWN  321 

down  into  hell  some  day,  if  it  repent  not  of 
its  closes  and  their  dens  of  defilement?  Oh  I 
the  utter  weariness,  the  dazed  hopelessness  of 
the  ghastly  faces  !  Do  not  the  kindly,  gentle 
church -going  folk  of  the  crescents  and  the 
gardens  see  them  in  their  dreams,  or  are  their 
dreams  too  heavenly  for  these  ghastly  faces  to 
appear?' 

I  cannot  recall  the  programme  of  the  evening, 
but  in  my  memory-gallery  is  a  vivid  picture  of 
that  face,  sweet,  sad,  beautiful,  alight  with  the  deep 
glow  of  her  eyes,  as  she  stood  and  sang  to  lhat 
dingy  crowd.  As  I  sat  upon  the  window-ledge 
listening  to  the  voice  with  its  flowing  song,  my 
thoughts  were  far  away,  and  I  was  looking  down 
once  more  upon  the  eager,  coal-grimed  faces  in 
the  rude  little  church  in  Black  Rock.  I  was 
brought  back  to  find  myself  swallowing  hard 
by  an  audible  whisper  from  a  wee  lassie  to  her 
mother — 

1  Mither !     See  till  yon  man.     He's  greetinV 

When  I  came  to  myself  she  was  singing  '  The 

Land  o'  the    Leal,'  the  Scotch  'Jerusalem  the 

Golden,'  immortal,  perfect     It  needed  experience 

of  the  hunger-haunted  Cowgate  closes,  chill  with 

X 


3aa  BLACK  ROCK 

the  black  mist  of  an  eastern  haar,  to  feel  the  full 
bliss  of  the  vision  in  the  words 


'  There 's  nae  sorrow  there,  Jean, 
There's  neither  cauld  nor  care,  Jean, 
The  day  is  aye  fair  in 
The  Land  o*  the  Leal.' 

A  land  of  fair,  warm  days,  untouched  by  sorrow 
and  care,  would  be  heaven  indeed  to  the  dwellers 
otflbe  Cowgate. 

The  rest  of  that  evening  is  hazy  enough  to  me 
now,  till  I  find  myself  opposite  Mrs.  Mavor  at 
her  fire,  reading  Graeme's  letter ;  then  all  is  vivid 
again. 

I  could  not  keep  the  truth  from  her.  I  knew 
it  would  be  folly  to  try.  So  I  read  straight  on 
till  I  came  to  the  words — 

'  He  has  had  mountain  fever,  whatever  that 
may  be,  and  he  will  not  pull  up  again.  If  I  can, 
I  shall  take  him  home  to  my  mother ' — when  she 
suddenly  stretched  out  her  hand,  saying, '  Oh,  let 
me  read  ! '  and  I  gave  her  the  letter.  In  a  minute 
she  had  read  it,  and  began  almost  breathlessly — 

1  Listen !  my  life  is  much  changed.  My  mother- 
in-law  is  gone ;  she  needs  me  no  longer.  My 
solicitor  tells  me,  too,  that  owing  to  unfortunate 


COMING  TO  THEIR  OWN  323 

investments  there  is  need  of  money,  so  great 
need,  that  it  is  possible  that  either  the  estates 
or  the  works  must  go.  My  cousin  has  his  all  in 
the  works — iron  works,  you  know.  It  would  be 
wrong  to  have  him  suffer.  I  shall  give  up  the 
estates — that  is  best.'  She  paused. 

'  And  come  with  me,'  I  cried. 

1  When  do  you  sail  ? ' 

1  Next  week,'  I  answered  eagerly. 

She  looked  at  me  a  few  moments,  and  into 
her  eyes  there  came  a  light  soft  and  tender,  as 
she  said — 

'  I  shall  go  with  you.' 

And  so  she  did  ;  and  no  old  Roman  in  all  the 
glory  of  a  Triumph  carried  a  prouder  heart  than 
I,  as  I  bore  her  and  her  little  one  from  the  train 
to  Graeme's  carriage,  crying — 

'  I  've  got  her.' 

But  his  was  the  better  sense,  for  he  stood  wav- 
ing his  hat  and  shouting — 

1  He 's  all  right,'  at  which  Mrs.  Mavor  grew 
white ;  but  when  she  shook  hands  with  him,  the 
red  was  in  her  cheek  again. 

1  It  was  the  cable  did  it,'  went  on  Graeme. 
'Connor's  a  great  doctor!  His  first  case  will 


324  BLACK  ROCK 

make  him  famous.  Good  prescription — after 
mountain  fever  try  a  cablegram  I '  And  the  red 
grew  deeper  in  the  beautiful  face  beside  us. 

Never  did  the  country  look  so  lovely.  The 
woods  were  in  their  gayest  autumn  dress  ;  the 
brown  fields  were  bathed  in  a  purple  haze  ;  the 
air  was  sweet  and  fresh  with  a  suspicion  of  the 
coming  frosts  of  winter.  But  in  spite  of  all  the 
road  seemed  long,  and  it  was  as  if  hours  had 
gone  before  our  eyes  fell  upon  the  white  manse 
standing  among  the  golden  leaves. 

*  Let  them  go,'  I  cried,  as  Graeme  paused  to 
take  in  the  view,"and  down  the  sloping  dusty  road 
we  flew  on  the  dead  run. 

'Reminds  one  a  little  of  Abe's  curves/  said 
Graeme,  as  we  drew  up  at  the  gate.  But  I 
answered  him  not,  for  I  was  introducing  to  each 
other  the  two  best  women  in  the  world.  As  I 
was  about  to  rush  into  the  house,  Graeme  seized 
me  by  the  collar,  saying — 

'  Hold  on,  Connor !  you  forget  your  placa^ 
you  're  next.' 

'Why,  certainly,'  I  cried,  thankfully  enough; 
'  what  an  ass  I  am  ! ' 

1  Quite  true,'  said  Graeme  solemnly. 


COMING  TO  THEIR  OWN  315 

'Where  is  he?'  I  asked. 

'At  this  present  moment?'  he  asked,  in  a 
shocked  voice.  '  Why,  Connor,  you  surprise  me.' 

'Oh,  I  see!' 

1  Yes,'  he  went  on  gravely  ; '  you  may  trust  my 
mother  to  be  discreetly  attending  to  her  domestic 
duties ;  she  is  a  great  woman,  my  mother/ 

I  had  no  doubt  of  it,  for  at  that  moment  she 
came  out  to  us  with  little  Marjorie  in  her  arms. 

'You  have  shown  Mrs.  Mavor  to  her  room, 
mother,  I  hope/  said  Graeme ;  but  she  only 
smiled  and  said — 

'  Run  away  with  your  horses,  you  silly  boy/  at 
which  he  solemnly  shook  his  head.  '  Ah,  mother, 
you  are  deep — who  would  have  thought  it  of 
you?' 

That  evening  the  manse  overflowed  with  joy, 
and  the  days  that  followed  were  like  dreams  set 
to  sweet  music. 

But  for  sheer  wild  delight,  nothing  in  my 
memory  can  quite  come  up  to  the  demonstration 
organised  by  Graeme,  with  assistance  from  Nixon, 
Shaw, Sandy,  Abe,  Geordie,  and  Baptiste,  in  honour 
of  the  arrival  in  camp  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Craig.  And, 
in  my  opinion,  it  added  something  to  the  occa- 


326  BLACK  ROCK 

sion,  that  after  all  the  cheers  for  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Craig  had  died  away,  and  after  all  the  hats  had 
come  down,  Baptiste,  who  had  never  taken  his 
eyes  from  that  radiant  face,  should  suddenly  have 
swept  the  crowd  into  a  perfect  storm  of  cheers  by 
excitedly  seizing  his  tuque,  and  calling  out  in  his 
shrill  voice — 

'  By  gar  I  Tree  cheer  for  Mrs.  Mavor.' 
And  for  many  a  day  the  men  of  Black  Rock 
would  easily  fall  into  the  old  and  well-loved 
name  ;  but  up  and  down  the  line  of  construction, 
in  all  the  camps  beyond  the  Great  Divide,  the 
new  name  became  as  dear  as  the  old  had  ever 
been  in  Black  Rock. 

Those  old  wild  days  are  long  since  gone  into 
the  dim  distance  of  the  past.  They  will  not 
come  again,  for  we  have  fallen  into  quiet  times  ; 
but  often  in  my  quietest  hours  I  feel  my  heart 
pause  in  its  beat  to  hear  again  that  strong,  clear 
voice,  like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,  bidding  us  to 
be  men  ;  and  I  think  of  them  all — Graeme,  their 
chief,  Sandy,  Baptiste,  Geordie,  Abe,  the  Camp- 
bells, Nixon,  Shaw,  all  stronger,  better  for  their 
knowing  of  him,  and  then  I  think  of  Billy  asleep 
under  the  pines,  and  of  old  man  Nelson  with  the 


COMING  TO  THEIR  OWN  317 

long  grass  waving  over  him  in  the  quiet  church- 
yard, and  all  my  nonsense  leaves  me,  and  I  bless 
the  Lord  for  all  His  benefits,  but  chiefly  for  the 
day  I  met  the  missionary  of  Black  Rock  in  the 
lumber-camp  among  the  Selkirks. 


THE  END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


LD-URL 

JUN    3  1965 


7-4 


m  L9-Series  444 


